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HELIOTYPE PRINTINQ OO.. BOSTON. 



LITERARY PAPERS 



OF 



WILLIAM AUSTIN 



UtJ a iSiosrapfjical ^fectcj 



BY HIS SON 



JAMES WALKER AUSTIN 




7 U 



BOSTON" 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1890 






Copyright, 1S90, 
By James Walker Acstin. 



TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES PRINTED. 



University Press : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Biographical Sketch of William Austin v-xvi 

Peter Eugg, the Missing Man 3-40 

The Late Joseph Natterstrom 43-58 

Martha Gardner; or, Moral Eeaction 61-74 

The Man with the Cloaks : a Vermont Legend . 77-96 
The Sufferings of a Country Schoolmaster . . . 99-119 

Letters prom London 123-327 

The Human Character of Jesus Christ .... 331-372 
Oration at Charlestov/n, Mass., June 17, 1801 . . 375-394 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



WILLIAM AUSTIN, the author of the Papers m- 
cluded in this volume, was the son of Nathaniel 
Austin, — of the Austin family that settled in Charlestown, 
Massachusetts, about 1638, — and of Margaret Rand, a 
sister of Dr. Isaac Rand, well spoken of by Lorenzo Sabine 
in the Biographical Sketches of American Loyalists. 

The earliest recorded notice of the Austin name in the 
Charlestown Records is that of Richard Austin, who was 
admitted a freeman in 1651, probably when he became 
twenty-one years of age. From this Richard descended 
Benjamin Austin, commonly known as " Honestus ; " 
Jonathan Loring Austin, secretary to Dr. Franklin at 
Paris, and afterward Secretary of State and Treasurer of 
Massachusetts ; and the late Attorney-general, James 
Trecothick Austin. During the Revolution all of the 
Austin name were patriots, stanch and active ; and 
Benjamin, the father of "Honestus," was one of the 
number of those whose appointment as councillors was 
vetoed by Governor Gage. 

There is a tradition that two boys, brothers, came to 
Charlestown in 1638, — one of whom was Richard (ad- 
mitted freeman in 1651, as before stated), and the other 
named Anthony, who first went to Rowley, Massachusetts, 
and thence to Suffield, Connecticut. That one of the 
same race as Richard of 1651 removed to Connecticut is 



vi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

beyond doubt, but at what particular time vrc have no 
evidence. It is stated that from this Connecticut branch 
was descended Stephen Fuller Austin, ])y whose forecast, 
wisdom, and energy, in a large measure, Texas became 
a part of tlie Union. 

The two boys mentioned above were probably the " two 
children" accompanying that Richard Austin of Bishop- 
stoke, England, enumerated by John Camden Hotten in his 
" Original Lists of Emigrants" as embarking from Southamp- 
ton, bound for New England, in the ship " Bevis " in May, 
1G38. No further trace of Richard, senior, has been found ; 
and he is unaccounted for, unless identical with the Aus- 
tin mentioned in Winthrop's Journal, who arrived in New 
England in 1638, and whose subsequent capture by the 
Turks on his return voyage to England by way of Spain is 
considered by Winthrop a judgment of God for his dis- 
satisfaction with the new country and withdrawal there- 
from. This may be the Richard, as the date of his arrival, 
1638, corresponds with the year of his departure from 
England ; but if so, Winthrop is in error in stating that he 
with " his wife and family were carried to Algiers and sold 
there for slaves." Such may have been the fate of Richard 
and his wife, but not of the children, who seem to have re- 
mained in tliis country, and afterward appear as Richard 
and Anthony. There seems to be more than common 
obscurity in the history of the family until we begin with 
Richard of 1651, who appears from the Charlestown 
Records to have been a man of some note, and who held 
various public offices. From his time the family descent 
is clearly traced. 

William Austin, the subject of this sketch, was born at 
Lunenburg, in the County of Worcester, Massachusetts, 
March 2, 1778, and died in Charlestown, June 27, 1841. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. vii 

The house of his father was burned in the conflagration at 
Charlestown, June 17, 1775, during the battle of Bunker 
Hill ; and on the same day the family left for Lunenburg, 
there to remain until the house was rebuilt. During 
the burning of Charlestown Mrs. Austin hastened with 
her son Nathaniel (William's elder brother), then about 
four years old, over Charlestown Neck to Maiden. She 
never forgot the anxiety and distress of the day ; and 
in after years, still cherishing her Tory prejudices, she 
was always careful to remind that son when arrayed in 
regimentals as general of the militia, to celebrate the 
17th of June, that he was celebrating a defeat, and also 
her flight with him from the burning town. 

The life of William Austin was not without incident. 
He was graduated from Harvard College in the Class of 
1798, — a class of ability and good character. Among its 
members were William Ellery Channing, Samuel Phillips 
Prescott Fay, Joseph Story, Richard Sullivan, Stephen 
Longfellow, John Varnum, and Humphrey Devereux, — the 
last named his room-mate for four years. Mr. Austin 
was chosen a member of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, 
but declined for two reasons, — one, because he had 
a strong dislike to secret societies, and the other, be- 
cause he thought injustice had been done to one of his 
classmates. 

In 1799 Mr. Austin was appointed schoolmaster and 
chaplain in the Navy, being, I believe, the first commis- 
sioned chaplain in the service. He sailed with Com- 
modores Nicholson and Talbot in the frigate " Consti- 
tution," and among his pupils was John, afterward 
Commodore, Downes, who years after, when in command 
at the Charlestown Navy Yard, gratefully said that there 
was one man, William Austin, to whom he could always 
cheerfully take off his hat. During the cruise of the 



viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

" Constitution," Commodore Talbot commanding, the ship 
" Amelia," owned in Hamburg, was captured from the 
French, and in 1800 the court decreed that the captors 
were entitled to one sixth of the value for salvage. 
Commodore Talbot had expected more, and sent Mr. 
Austin to engage Alexander Hamilton to manage the 
case. At the interview, Hamilton said : — 

" Who are you, sir 1 " 

" I am the chaplain," was the reply. 

" You do not look much like a chaplain." 

" I intend, as soon as I can afford it, to study law." 

"Well, here is my library; make yourself at home. Study out 

this case, and determine for yourself what is the proper amount of 

salvage, as you are interested." 

Mr. Austin accepted the invitation, examined the author- 
ities, and came to the same conclusion with Mr. Hamilton, 
who highly commended the researches and arguments of 
the young chaplain. 

After his cruises in the " Constitution " Mr. Austin 
went to England, and while there enjoyed the society 
of "Washington Allston and John Blake White, artists, 
Edmund Trowbridge Dana, son of Judge Francis Dana, 
and Arthur Maynard Walter. Walter was a classmate, 
who took his degree at Columbia College, New York, 
because he had had some difficulty with the Harvard 
authorities, and Dana severed his connection with the 
College in his junior year. They were all genial men, 
and their political or other differences did not affect 
their social relations. These young men, having been 
intimate in America, their good-fellowship in London 
was but natural, and they remained cordial friends as 
long as life lasted. Austin gave a somewhat different 
version of the visit of the young men to see George HI. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ix 

from that given by his classmate Willard, in the " Mem- 
ories of Youth and Manhood." The account given in 
Mr. Austin's own words, is as follows : — 

" I walked with White, Allston, Dana, and Walter to Windsor 
to see the royal family parade on the terrace. We all had canes, 
as was the fashion of the time, and to our surprise, upon enter- 
ing the grounds these were taken away by an usher. I said, * I 
hope you do not think we came to cane his Majesty.' I had seen 
the king before and knew his person. The others spoke almost in 
one breath, — 

" ' Austin, which is the king 1 ' 

"I said, 'Do you see that man there?' pointing to the king. 

" ' Yes.' 

" ' Well, that is the rascal who burned my father's barn' " 

Both house and barn had been burned at Charlestown, 
but the burning of the barn was treated as the meaner 
offence. Willard states that : — 

" Austin was not born until nearly two years after the battle of 
Bunker Hill,^ but in his childhood he could see ample proofs of 
the awful conflagration in the cellar walls and naked chimneys 
and fragments of timber, charred, but not wholly consumed." 

I do not know that I can give any better description of 
Mr. Austin, with some slight qualifications and additions, 
than that to be found in the " Memories of Youth and 
Manhood," to which I have before referred. Mr. Willard 
says : — 

" At no time, so far as I can remember, did Mr. Austin while at 
college show any desire to excel in the prescribed studies, being 
doubtless of the opinion that one has as good a right of choice in 
the studies he shall pursue as in the companions with whom he 
shall choose to associate. Apart from this, which was unjust to 

1 He was born nearly three years after the battle. 



X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

himself, he employed much of his time usefully, and was among 
the most distinguished belle-lettrists (if I may use a word of Cole- 
ridge's coining) of his class, and wrote with far more facility and 
sprightliness than the generality of its members. Soon after he 
received his degree he went to England as a literary amateur and 
observer, and wrote many letters home, which after his return he 
collected and published in a volume. They embrace a variety of 
topics, and among them descriptions of some of the most distin- 
guished Parliamentary speakers at the close of the last and the 
beginning of the present century, which form an interesting part 
of the book. For his professional life he studied law, and prac- 
tised in this profession as an attorney, counsellor, and advocate. 
His ideas indeed were quick and often brilliant, but his tempera- 
ment was impulsive, and he failed in that degree of illustrative 
amplification and that continuity of thought which are necessary 
to lead common minds to the desired conclusion. As a companion 
he was entertaining and instructive, — one whom it was pleasing 
to meet even casually in the street ; for there was always some- 
thing uppermost in his mind, and one might perceive in his ap- 
proach that he had something to say, and he said it very abruptly 
perhaps, and sometimes it was very odd, but not infrequently 
suggestive of more than was said. "While in active life, Austin 
belonged to the Democratic party, and for two years, beginning in 
May, 1822, he was a member of the Massachusetts Senate for the 
County of Middlesex. It was a time when party politics inter- 
fered little with legislation. He was also in 1820 a delegate from 
Charlestown to the Convention for revising the Constitution of 
Massachusetts, and upon some of the proposed amendments he 
took an active part in the debates. In the debate concerning the 
government of Harvard College he manifested a liberal spirit. 
With his usual frankness ho acknowledged that he had formerly 
entertained prejudices, but they had long since been dissipated. 
It is a remarkable fact that there were eight members of the class 
graduated at Harvard College in 1798 who were members of this 
Convention ; namely, John Abbot, William Austin, Samuel P. P. 
Fay, Isaac Fiske, Henry Gardner, Joseph Story, Ptichard Sullivan, 
and Joseph Tuckerman. 

"Though Austin wrote with facility from a mind well stored^ I 
am not aware that he contributed laro^elv to the literature of his 



BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. xi 

times. His story of Peter Rugg, published in the " Galaxy " (a 
paper conducted by Joseph T. Buckingham), had great celebrity, 
and was copied in many newspapers and miscellaneous journals. 
It is a story unsurpassed in its kind, and so well and consistently 
sustained that the reader cannot fail to follow the hero in his 
perpetual motion with a feeling of sympathy and anxiety for 
his fate." 

What is said of Mr. Austin as an advocate is partially 
true. He could make a close and able argument, but I 
think that from the bent and formation of his mind, unless 
he thought his client had a just cause he could not with 
energy enforce his arguments. He was however a most 
faithful counsellor, and when he officiated on trials as a 
justice for the County of Middlesex, all the Boston Bar, 
with scarcely an exception, brought their Middlesex 
actions to his court. 

In England Mr. Austin made acquaintance with gentle- 
men of varied qualities, as will be seen by his account in 
the " Letters from London.'' Among others he became 
acquainted with the celebrated Lord Erskine. On a warm 
summer day he attended the Sessions, when it was known 
that Mr. Erskine was to address the Court. Erskine said, 
" Why, Mr. Austin, what can keep you in the court such 
an oppressive day?" "A gentleman, sir, by the name 
of Erskine keeps me here ; he is responsible," — a reply 
which greatly pleased Erskine. 

After spending about eighteen months at Lincoln's Inn 
in the study of law, Mr. Austin returned to Massachusetts, 
and soon after entered upon the practice of his profession. 
From this period until his activity of life ceased, he 
had a throng of attached clients in Charlestown and 
Boston, who kept him so much engaged that there was 
small opportunity for literary production. 

On the 17th of June, 1801, three years after his gradu- 



xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

ation, Mr. Austin delivered an oration on Bunker Hill, 
before and at the request of the Charlestown Artillery 
Company. It was published, and is worth reading as a 
specimen of the style of the times. The essay on " The 
Human Character of Jesus Christ," written when the 
author was less than thirty years of age, is remarkable for 
its depth of thought, its beauty of language, and its rev- 
erent appreciation of the Son of Man. 

Through the kindness of Col. Thomas "Wentworth Hig- 
ginson, I am permitted to include in this Sketch a part 
of his interesting essay published in "The Independent" 
of March 29, 1888, in which "William Austin is called " A 
Precursor of Hawthorne." Colonel Higginson writes as 
follows : — 

" Tlie talc ^vllicll will, perhaps, keep liini in lasting memory is 
'Peter Kugg, the Missing Man.' The tale was first printed in 
Buckingham's ' Xew England Galaxy' for Sept. 10, 1824; and 
that editor says of it : ' This article was reprinted in other papers 
and books, and read more than any newspaper communication 
that has fallen witliin my knowledge.'^ 

" The original story purports to belong to the year 1820, and 
the scene of a later continuation is laid in the year 1825, both 
these being reprinted in the 'Boston Book' for 1841. It is the 
narrative, in the soberest language, of a series of glimpses of a 
man who spends his life in driving a horse and chaise — or more 
strictly ' a weather-beaten chair, once built for a chaise-body ' — 
in the direction of Boston, but never getting there. He is accom- 
panied by a child ; and it subsequently turns out that he really 
left Boston about the time of the Boston massacre (1770) and 
has been travelling ever since, — the explanation being that he was 
once overtaken by a storm at Menotomy, now Arlington, a few 
miles from Boston, and that being a man of violent temper he 
swore to get home that night or never see home again. Thence- 
forth he is always travelling ; a cloud and a storm always follow 

1 Personal Memoirs, i. 87. 



BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. xiii 

hlui, and every horse that sees his approach feels abject terror. 
The concejition is essentially Hawthorne-like ; and so are the scene 
and the accessories. The time to which Rugg's career dates back 
is that borderland of which Hawthorne was so fond, between the 
colonial and the modern period ; and the old localities, dates, cos- 
tumes, and even coins are all introduced in a way to remind us of 
the greater artist. But what is most striking in the tale is what 
I have called the penumbra, — a word defined in astronomy as that 
portion of space which in an eclipse is partly but not entirely 
deprived of light ; and in painting, as the boundary of shade and 
light, where the one blends with the other. 

'* It is this precise gift which has long been recognized as almost 
peculiar to Hawthorne, among writers of English. Miss Elizabeth 
Peabody, Hawthorne's sister-in-law, stated it admirably when she 
wrote in a paper on ' The Genius of Hawthorne : ' ^ 'He does not 
seem to know much more about his heroes and heroines than he 
represents them to know of each other ; but recognizing the fact 
that most outward action is of mixed motives, and admits of more 
than one interpretation, he is very apt to suggest two or tliree 
quite diverse views, and, as it were, consult with his readers 
upon which may be the true one ; and not seldom he gives most 
prominence to some interpretation which we feel pretty sure is 
not his own.' Then she points out by way of illustration, that in 
* The Marble Faun ' the author does not seem really to know 
whether Donatello has pointed and furry ears or not ; and such 
illustrations could easily be multiplied. Now, it is precisely this 
method which we find in full force throughout the story of ' Peter 
Rugg, the Missing Man,' published while Hawthorne was yet a 
student at Bowdoin College. 

"At every point in the narrative of this enigmatical man we are 
thrown into this borderlantl between light and shade. When the 
driver points out in the thunder-cloud, after Rugg and his weird 
child have driven by, the form of the man, horse, and vehicle, the 
writer admits that he himself saw no such thing, and suggests that 
' the man's fancy was doubtless at fault,' and that it is ' a very 
common thing for the imagination to paint for the senses.' When 
an old citizen tells the tradition of Rugg's ill-temper, that he be- 

1 Atlantic Monthly, September, 1868. 



xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

came *so profane that his wig would rise up from his -head,' the 
dispassionate historian is careful to tell us : * Some said it was on 
account of his terrible language ; others accounted for it in a 
more philosophical way, and said it was caused by the expansion 
of his scalp, as violent passion, we know, will swell the veins 
and expand the head.' When the author mentions the rumor 
that on the only occasion when Rugg really reached Boston and 
drove through his own street, unable to stop the horse, the clatter 
of the animal's hoofs shook the houses, he quietly points out that 
this was nothing remarkable ; ' for at this day, in many of the 
streets, a loadud truck or team in passing will shake the houses 
like an earthquake.' However,' he adds, * Rugg's neighbors never 
afterward watched. Some of them treated it all as a delusion, 
and thouglit no more of it. Others of a different opinion shook 
their heads and said nothing.' Here we have in perfection the 
penumbra of Hawthorne. 

" Again, when the toll-gatherer once attempted to stop Rugg on 
Charlestown bridge and failed, the writer adds : ' Whether Rugg, 
or whoever the person was, ever passed the bridge again, the toll- 
gatherer never would tell ; and when questioned, seemed anxious 
to waive the subject.* Thus docs Austin, like Hawthorne, actually 
discredit his own witnesses, half evoking them from the shadow, 
and then on second thoughts remanding them to the dusk again. 
So in the continuation of the story, — which, as being a con- 
tinuation, is more ambitious and proportionately less eifective, — 
Peter Eugg appears with his equipage on a Virginia race-course, 
and outruns the winning steeds. One of the riders and half the 
spectators declare that the stranger beast is not a horse but a 
huge black ox, — and, indeed, his tracks show the cloven foot ; yet 
when the horse is afterward examined on a ferry-boat it turns out 
that his hoofs have been accidentally split on a newly macadam- 
ized road. So when another toll-gatherer claims that the horse 
passed without touching the bar, the author points out that the 
bar is so low that so high-stepping a horse could easily draw a 
two-wheeled vehicle over it. Thus at every step, in the Haw- 
thorne fashion, Austin mystifies himself with the reader, and never 
leaves one so wholly confused as when offering him some perfectly 
commonplace elucidation. 

" The continuation of ' Peter Rugg ' rises at the close to a cer- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xv 

tain dignity of tone which justifies its existence. Peter Ptugg at 
last reaches Boston with his weary child, at the very moment 
when an auctioneer is offering for sale his own ancient estate, now 
escheated to the Commonwealth. The house is gone, the genera- 
tion Eugg knew is gone, and all he can do, while peering on the 
alien crowd, is to recognize, in true Boston fashion, the features of 
the older families, — Winslow and Sargent, Sewall and Dudley. 
* Will none of you speak to me 1 ' he says. . . . ' Will no one 
inform me who has demolished my house?' 

" Then spake a voice from the crowd, but whence it came I 
could not discern : ' There is nothing strange here but yourself, Mr. 
Rugg. Time, which destroys and renews all things, has dilapidated 
your house and placed us here. You have suffered many years under 
an illusion. The tempest which you profanely defied at Menotomy 
has at length subsided; but you will never see home, for your house 
and wife and neighbors have all disappeared. Your estate, indeed, 
remains, but no home. You were cut off from the last age, and you 
can never be fitted to the present. Your home is gone, and you can 
never have another home in this world.' " 

" Who but Hawthorne ever brought back his readers from the 
realms of fantasy by an ending so much like that of a ' Twice-Told 
Tale ' 1 " 

The Oration delivered at Charlestown at the request of 
the Artillery Company, June 17, 1801, was published in 
Charlestown, 1801 ; the " Letters from London," in Boston, 
1804 ; the essay on " The Human Character of Jesus 
Christ," in Boston, 1807 ; " The Sufferings of a Country 
Schoolmaster," in the " New England Galaxy," Boston, 
July 8, 1825 ; " The late Joseph Natterstrom," in the " New 
England Magazine," July, 1831; "The Man with the 
Cloaks," in the " American Monthly Magazine," January, 
1836 ; and " Martha Gardner," in the " American Monthly 
Magazine," December, 1837. 

The portrait of my father which accompanies this 
volume is from the painting by Pratt. 



ivi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

My father died in my boyhood, and now, after nearly 
fifty years, his pleasant smile, his kind heart, and the 
.light of his countenance are still living memories. It 
has been a great delight to me to place and preserve 
on the speaking page these memorials of his life and 
labors. 

I am indebted to my brother, the late Arthur Williams 
Austin, of Milton, for information in regard to much of 
the material that I have made use of in this Sketch ; 
and also to my friend, Albert Plarrison Iloyt, for his kind 
assistance in helping me prepare this volume for the 
press. 

JAMES W. AUSTIN. 

Boston, September, 1890. 



PETER RUGG, THE MISSING MAN. 



PETER RUGG, THE MISSING MAN. 



From Jonathan D unwell of New York, to Mr. 
Herman Krauff. 

SIR, — Agreeably to my promise, I now relate to you all 
the particulars of the lost man and child which I have 
been able to collect. It is entirely owing to the humane 
interest you seemed to take in the report, that I have pur- 
sued the inquiry to the following result. 

You may remember that business called me to Boston 
in the summer of 1820. I sailed in the packet to Provi- 
dence, and when I arrived there I learned that every seat 
in the stage was engaged. I was thus obliged either to 
wait a few hours or accept a seat with the driver, who 
civilly offered me that accommodation. Accordingly, I 
took my seat by his side, and soon found him intelligent 
and communicative. When we had travelled about ten 
miles, the horses suddenly threw their ears on their necks, 
as flat as a hare's. Said the driver, " Have you a surtout 
with you ? " 

" No," said I ; " why do you ask ? " 

" You will want one soon," said he. " Do you observe 
the ears of all the horses ? " 

" Yes ; and was just about to ask the reason." 

" They see the storm-breeder, and we shall see him 
soon." 



4 PETER RUGG, 

At this moment there was not a cloud visible in the firma- 
ment. Soon after, a small speck appeared in the road. 

" There," said my companion, " comes the storm-breeder. 
He always leaves a Scotch mist behind him. By many a 
wet jacket do I remember him. I suppose the poor fellow 
suffers much himself, — much more than is known to the 
world." 

Presently a man with a child beside him, with a large 
black horse, and a weather-beaten chair, once built for a 
chaise-body, passed in great haste, apparently at the rate 
of twelve miles an hour. He seemed to grasp the reins of 
his horse witli firmness, and appeared to anticipate his 
speed. He seemed dejected, and looked anxiously at the 
passengers, particularly at the stage-driver and myself. In 
a moment after he passed us, the horses' ears were up, and 
bent themselves forward so that they nearly met. 

" Who is that man ? " said I ; " he seems in great 
trouble." 

" Nobody knows who he is, Ijut his person and the child 
are familiar to me. I have met him more than a hundred 
times, and have been so often asked the way to Boston 
by that man, even when he was travelling directly from 
that town, that of late I have refused any communica- 
tion with him ; and that is the reason he gave me such a 
fixed look." 

" But does he never stop anywhere ? " 

" I have never known him to stop anywhere longer 
than to inquire the way to Boston ; and let him be where 
he may, he will tell you he cannot stay a moment, for 
he must reach Boston that night." 

We were now ascending a high hill in Walpole ; and as 
we had a fair view of the heavens, I was rather disposed 
to jeer the driver for thinking of his surtout, as not a 
cloud as big as a marble could be discerned. 



THE MISSING MAN. 6 

" Do you look," said he, " in the direction whence the 
man came ; that is the place to look. The storm never 
meets him ; it follo\^s him." 

We presently approached another hill ; and when at the 
height, the driver pointed out in an eastern direction a 
little black speck about as big as a hat. " There," said he, 
" is the seed-storm. We may possibly reach Policy's be- 
fore it reaches us, but the wanderer and his child will go 
to Providence through rain, thunder, and lightning." 

And now the horses, as though taught by instinct, has- 
tened with increased speed. The little black cloud came 
on rolling over the turnpike, and doubled and trebled itself 
in all directions. The appearance of this cloud attracted 
the notice of all the passengers, for after it had spread 
itself to a great bulk it suddenly became more limited in 
circumference, grew more compact, dark, and consolidated. 
And now the successive flashes of chain lightning caused 
the whole cloud to appear like a sort of irregular net- work, 
and displayed a thousand fantastic images. The driver 
bespoke my attention to a remarkable configuration in the 
cloud. He said every flash of lightning near its centre 
discovered to him, distinctly, the form of a man sitting in 
an open carriage drawn by a black horse. But in truth I 
saw no such thing; the man's fancy was doubtless at 
fault. It is a very common thing for the imagination to 
paint for the senses, both in the visible and invisible 
world. 

In the mean time the distant thunder gave notice of a 
shower at hand ; and just as we reached Policy's tavern 
the rain poured down in 'torrents. It was soon over, the 
cloud passing in the direction of the turnpike toward 
Providence. In a few moments after, a respectable-look- 
ing man in a chaise stopped at the door. The man and 
child in the chair having excited some little sympathy 



6 PETER KUGG, 

among the passengers, the gentleman was asked if he had 
observed them. He said he had met them ; that the man 
seemed bewildered, and inquired the ^^ay to Boston ; that 
he was driving at great speed, as though he expected to 
outstrip the tempest ; that the moment he had passed him, 
a thunder-clap broke directly over the man's head, and 
seemed to envelop both man and child, horse and carriage. 
" I stopped," said the gentleman, " supposing the lightning 
had struck him, but the horse only seemed to loom up and 
increase his speed ; and as well as 1 could judge, he trav- 
elled just as fast as the thunder-cloud." 

While this man was speaking, a pedler with a cart of tin 
merchandise came up, all dripping; and on being ques- 
tioned, he said he had met that man and carriage, within a 
fortnight, in four different States ; that at each time he 
had inquired the way to Boston ; and that a thunder-shower 
like the present liad each time deluged his wagon and his 
wares, setting his tin pots, etc. afloat, so that he had de- 
termined to get a marine insurance for the future. But 
that which excited his surprise most was the strange con- 
duct of his horse, for long before he could distinguish the 
man in the chair, his own horse stood still in the road, 
and flung back his ears. " In short," said the pedler, " I 
wish never to see that man and horse again ; they do not 
look to me as though they belonged to this world." 

This was all I could learn at that time ; and the occur- 
rence soon after would have become with me, " like one of 
those things which had never happened," had I not, as I 
stood recently on the door-step of Bennett's hotel in Hart- 
ford, heard a man say, " There goes Peter Rugg and his 
child ! he looks wet and weary, and farther from Boston 
than ever." I was satisfied it was the same man I had seen 
more than three years before ; for whoever has once seen 
Peter Rugg can never after be deceived as to his identity. 



THE MISSING MAN. 7 

" Peter Rugg ! " said I ; " and who is Peter Rugg ? " 

" That," said the stranger, " is more than any one can 
tell exactly. He is a famous traveller, held in light esteem 
by all innholders, for he never stops to eat, drink, or sleep. 
I wonder why the government does not employ him to 
carry the mail." 

" Ay," said a by-stander, " that is a thought bright only 
on one side ; how long would it take in that case to send 
a letter to Boston, for Peter has already, to my knowledge, 
been more than twenty years travelling to that place." 

" But," said I, " does the man never stop anywhere ; 
does he never converse with any one ? I saw the same 
man more than three years since, near Providence, and I 
heard a strange story about him. Pray, sir, give me some 
account of this man." 

" Sir," said the stranger, " those who know the most re- 
specting that man, say the least. I have heard it asserted 
that Heaven sometimes sets a mark on a man, either for 
judgment or a trial. Under which Peter Rugg now labors, 
I cannot say ; therefore I am rather inclined to pity than 
to judge." 

" You speak like a humane man," said I ; " and if you 
have known him so long, I pray you will give me some 
account of him. Has his appearance much altered in 
that time ? " 

" Why, yes. He looks as though he never ate, drank, or 
slept ; and his child looks older than himself, and he looks 
like time broken off from eternity, and anxious to gain a 
resting-place." 

" And how does his horse look ? " said I. 

" As for his horse, he looks fatter and gayer, and shows 
more animation and courage than he did twenty years ago. 
The last time Rugg spoke to me he inquired how far it was 
to Boston. I told him just one hundred miles." 



8 PETER RUGG, 

" ' Why,' said he, ' how can you deceive me so ? It 
is cruel to mislead a traveller. I have lost my way ; 
pray direct me the nearest way to Boston.' 

" I repeated, it was one hundred miles. 

" ' How can you say so ? ' said he ; 'I was told last even- 
ing it was but fifty, and I have travelled all night.' 

"'But,' said I, 'you are now travelling from Boston. 
You must turn back.' 

" ' Alas,' said he, ' it is all turn back ! Boston shifts 
with the wind, and plays all around the compass. One 
man tells me it is to the east, another to the west ; and the 
guide-posts too, they all point the wrong way.* 

" ' But will you not stop and rest ? ' said I ; ' you seem 
wet and weary.' 

" * Yes,' said he, ' it has been foul weather since 1 left 
home.' 

" ' Stop, then, and refresh yourself.' 

" ' I must not stop ; 1 must reach home to-night, if pos- 
sible : though 1 tliink you must be mistaken in the distance" 
to Boston.' 

" lie then gave the reins to his horse, which he restrained 
with difficulty, and disappeared in a moment. A few days 
afterward I met the man a little this side of Claremont,^ 
winding around the hills in Unity, at the rate, I believe, of 
twelve miles an hour." 

"Is Peter Rugg his real name, or has he accidentally 
gained that name ? " 

" I know not, but presume he will not deny his name ; 
you can ask him, — for see, he has turned his horse, and 
is passing this way." 

In a moment a dark-colored high-spirited horse ap- 
proached, and would have passed without stopping, but I 
had resolved to speak to Peter Rugg, or whoever the man 
1 In New Hampshire. 



THk MISSING MAN. 9 

might be. Accordingly I stepped into the street ; and as 
the horse approached, T made a feint of stopping him. 
The man immediately reined in his horse. " Sir," said I, 
" may I be so bold as to inquire if you are not Mr. Rugg ? 
for I think I have seen you before." 

" My name is Peter Rugg," said he. " I have unfortu- 
nately lost my way ; I am wet and weary, and will take 
it kindly of you to direct me to Boston." 

" You live in Boston, do you ; and in what street ? " 

« In Middle Street." 

" When did you leave Boston ? " 

"I cannot tell precisely ; it seems a considerable time." 

" But how did you and your child become so wet ? It 
has not rained here to-day. " 

" It has just rained a heavy shower up the river. But 
I shall not reach Boston to-night if I tarry. Would you 
advise me to take the old road or the turnpike ? " 

" Why, the old road is one hundred and seventeen miles, 
and the turnpike is ninety-seven." 

" How can you say so ? You impose on me ; it is wrong 
to trifle with a traveller ; you know it is but forty miles 
from Newburyport to Boston." 

" But this is not Newburyport ; this is Hartford." 

" Do not deceive me, sir. Is not this town Newburyport, 
and the river that I have been following the Merrimack ? " 

" No, sir ; this is Hartford, and the river the Connecticut." 

He wrung his hands and looked incredulous. " Have 
the rivers, too, changed their courses, as the cities have 
changed places ? But see ! the clouds are gathering in 
the south, and we shall have a rainy night. Ah, that 
fatal oath!" 

He would tarry no longer; his impatient horse leaped 
off, his hind flanks rising like wings ; he seemed to devour 
all before him, and to scorn all behind. 



10 PETER KUGG, 

I had now, as I thought, discovered a clew to the history of 
Peter Rugg ; and I determined, the next time my business 
called me to Boston, to make a further inquiry. Soon after, 
I was enabled to collect the following particulars from Mrs. 
Croft, an aged lady in Middle Street, who has resided in Bos- 
ton during the last twenty years. Her narration is this : 

Just at twilight last summer a person stopped at the 
door of the late Mrs. Rugg. Mrs. Croft on coming to 
the door perceived a stranger with a child by his side, in 
an old weather-beaten carrfage, with a black horse. Tlie 
stranger asked for Mrs. Rugg, and was informed that Mrs. 
Rugg had died at a good old age, more than twenty years 
before that time. 

The stranger replied, " IIow can you deceive me so ? 
Do ask Mrs. Rugg to step to the door." 

" Sir, I assure you Mrs. Rugg has not lived here these 
twenty years ; no one lives here but myself, and my 
name is Betsey Croft."' 

The stranger paused, looked up and down the street, and 
said, " Though the paint is rather faded, this looks like 
my house." 

" Yes," said the child, " that is the stone before the door 
that I used to sit on to eat my bread and milk." 

" But," said the stranger, " it seems to be on the wrong 
side of the street. Indeed, everything here seems to be 
misplaced. The streets are all changed, the people are 
all changed, the town seems changed, and what is stran- 
gest of all, Catherine Rugg has deserted her husband and 
child. Pray," continued the stranger, " has John Foy 
come home from sea ? He went a long voyage ; he is 
my kinsman. If I could see him, he could give me some 
account of Mrs. Rugg." 

" Sir," said Mrs. Croft, " I never heard of John Foy. 
Where did he live?" 



THE MISSING MAN. 11 

" Just above here, in Orange-tree Lane." 

" There is no such place in this neighborhood." 

" What do you tell me ! Are the streets gone ? Orange- 
tree Lane is at the head of Hanover Street, near Pcm- 
berton's Hill." 

" There is no such lane now." 

" Madam, you cannot be serious ! But you doubtless 
know my brother, William Rugg. He lives in Royal 
Exchange Lane, near King Street." 

" I know of no such lane ; and I am sure there is no 
such street as King Street in this town." 

" No such street as King Street ! Why, woman, you 
mock me ! You may as well tell me there is no King 
George. However, madam, you see I am wet and weary, 
I must find a resting-place. I will go to Hart's tavern, 
near the market." 

" Which market, sir ? for you seem perplexed ; we have 
several markets." 

" You know there is but one market near the town 
dock." . 

" Oh, the old market ; but no such person has kept there 
these twenty years." 

Here the stranger seemed disconcerted, and uttered to 
himself quite audibly : " Strange mistake ; how much this 
looks like the town of Boston ! It certainly has a great 
resemblance to it ; but I perceive my mistake now. Some 
other Mrs. Rugg, some other Middle Street. — Then," 
said he, "madam, can you direct me to Boston?" 

" Why, this is Boston, the city of Boston ; I know of 
no other Boston." 

" City of Boston it may be ; but it is not the Boston 
where I live. I recollect now, I came over a bridge in- 
stead of a ferry. Pray, what bridge is that I just came 
over ? " 



12 PETER EUGG, 

"It is Charles River bridge." 

" I perceive my mistake : there is a ferry between Bos- 
ton and Charlestown ; there is no bridge. Ah, I perceive 
my mistake. If I were in Boston my horse would carry 
me directly to my own door. But my horse shows by his 
impatience that he is in a strange place. Absurd, that I 
sliould have mistaken this place for the old town of Bos- 
ton ! It is a much finer city than the town of Boston. It 
has been built long since Boston. I fancy Boston must 
lie at a distance from this city, as the good woman seems 
ignorant of it." 

At these words his horse began to chafe, and strike the 
pavement with his forefeet. The stranger seemed a little 
bewildered, and said, " No home to-night ; " and giving the 
reins to his horse, passed up the street, and I saw no more 
of him. 

It was evident that the generation to which Peter Rugg 
belonged, had passed away. 

This was all the account of Peter Rugg I could obtain 
from Mrs. Croft ; but she directed me to an elderly man, 
Mr. James Felt, who lived near her, and who had kept a 
record of the principal occurrences for the last fifty years. 
At my request she sent for him ; and after I had related 
to him the object of my inquiry, Mr. Felt told me he had 
known Rugg in his youth, and that his disappearance had 
caused some surprise ; but as it sometimes happens that 
men run away, — sometimes to be rid of others, and some- 
times to be rid of themselves, — and Rugg took his child 
with him, and his own horse and chair, and as it did not 
appear that any creditors made a stir, the occurrence soon 
mingled itself in the stream of oblivion ; and Rugg and 
his child, horse, and chair were soon forgotten. 

" It is true," said Mr. Felt, " sundry stories grew out of 
Rung's affair, whether true or false I cannot tell ; but 



THE MISSING MAN. 13 

stranger things have happened in my day, without even a 
newspaper notice." 

" Sir," said 1, "Peter Rugg is now living. I have lately 
seen Peter Rugg and his child, horse, and chair; there- 
fore I pray you to relate to me all you know or ever heard 
of him." 

" Why, my friend," said James Felt, " that Peter Rugg 
is now a living man, I will not deny ; but that you have 
seen Peter Rugg and his child, is impossible, if you mean 
a small child ; for Jenny Rugg, if living, must be at least 
— let me see — Boston massacre, 1770 — Jenny Rugg was 
about ten years old. Why, sir, Jenny Rugg, if living, 
must be more than sixty years of age. That Peter Rugg 
is living, is highly probable, as he was only ten years older 
than myself, and I was only eighty last March ; and I am 
as likely to live twenty years longer as any man." 

Here I perceived that Mr. Felt was in his dotage, and I 
despaired of gaining any intelligence from him on which 
I could depend. 

I took my leave of Mrs. Croft, and proceeded to my 
lodgings at the Marlborough Hotel. 

" If Peter Rugg," thought I, " has been travelling since 
the Boston massacre, there is no reason why he should not 
travel to the end of time. If the present generation know 
little of him, the next will know less, and Peter and his 
child will have no hold on this world." 

In the course of the evening, I related my adventure in 
Middle Street. 

" Ha ! " said one of the company, smiling, " do you 
really think you have seen Peter Rugg ? I have heard my 
grandfather speak of him, as though he seriously believed 
his own story." 

" Sir," said I, " pray let us compare your grandfather's 
story of Mr. Rugg with my own." 



14 PETER RUGG, 

" Peter Rugg, sir, — if my grandfather -vras worthy of 
credit, — once lived in Middle Street, in this city. He was 
a man in comfortable circumstances, had a wife and one 
daughter, and was generally esteemed for his sober life 
and manners. But unhappily, his temper, at times, was 
altogether ungovernable, and then his language was terri- 
ble. In these fits of passion, if a door stood in his way, he 
would never do less than kick a panel through. He 
would sometimes throw his heels over his head, and come 
down on his feet, uttering oaths in a circle ; and thus in 
a rage, he was the first who performed a somerset, and 
did what others have since learned to do for merriment 
and money. Once Rugg was seen to bite a tenpenny nail 
in halves. In those days everybody, both men and boys, 
wore wigs ; and Peter, at these moments of violent pas- 
sion, would become so profane that his wig would rise up 
from his head. Some said it was on account of his terri- 
ble language ; others accounted for it in a more philo- 
sophical way, and said it was caused by the expansion of 
his scalp, as violent passion, we know, will swell the veins 
and expand the head. While these fits were on him, Rugg 
had no respect for heaven or earth. Except this infirmity, 
all agreed that Rugg was a good sort of a man ; for when 
his fits were over, nobody was so ready to commend a 
placid temper as Peter. 

" One morning, late in autumn, Rugg, in his own chair, 
with a fine large bay liorse, took his daughter and pro- 
ceeded to Concord. On his return a violent storm over- 
took him. At dark he stopped in ^lenotomy, now West 
Cambridge, at the door of a Mr. Cutter, a friend of his, 
who urged him to tarry the night. On Rugg's declin- 
ing to stop, Mr. Cutter urged him vehemently. ' Why, 
Mr. Rugg,' said Cutter, ' the storm is overwhelming you. 
The niofht is exceedingly dark. Your little daughter will 



THE MISSING MAN. 15 

perish. You are in an open chair, and the tempest is in- 
creasing,' ' Let the storm increase^ said Rugg, with a fear- 
ful oath, ' I will see Jiome to-night, in spite of the last 
tempest, or may I never see home I ' At these words he 
gave his whip to his high-spirited horse and disappeared 
in a moment. But Peter Rugg did not reach home that 
night, nor the next ; nor, when he became a missing 
man, could he ever be traced beyond Mr. Cutter's, in 
Menotomy. 

" For a long time after, on every dark and stormy night 
the wife of Peter Rugg would fancy she heard tlie crack 
of a whip, and the fleet tread of a horse, and the rattling 
of a carriage passing her door. The neighbors, too, heard 
the same noises, and some said they knew it was Rugg's 
horse ; the tread on the pavement was perfectly familiar 
to them. This occurred so repeatedly that at length the 
neighbors watched with lanterns, and saw the real Peter 
Rugg, with his own horse and chair and the child sitting 
beside him, pass directly before his own door, his head 
turned toward his house, and himself making every effort 
to stop his horse, but in vain. 

" The next day the friends of Mrs. Rugg exerted them- 
selves to find her husband and child. They inquired at 
every public house and stable in town ; but it did not ap- 
pear that Rugg made any stay in Boston. No one, after 
Rugg had passed his own door, could give any account of 
him, though it was asserted by some that the clatter of 
Rugg's horse and carriage over the pavements shook the 
houses on both sides of the streets. And this is credible, if 
indeed Rugg's horse and carriage did pass on that night ; 
for at this day, in many of the streets, a loaded truck or 
team in passing will shake the houses like an earthquake. 
However, Rugg's neighbors never afterward watched. 
Some of them treated it all as a delusion, and thought no 



16 PETER EUGG, 

more of it. Others of a different opinion shook their heads 
and said nothing. 

" Tims Rugg and his child, horse, and chair were soon 
forgotten ; and probably many in the neighborhood never 
heard a word on the subject. 

" There was indeed a rumor that Rugg was seen after- 
ward in Connecticut, between Suffield and Hartford, pass- 
ing through the country at headlong speed. This gave 
occasion to Rugg's friends to make further inquiry ; but 
the more they inquired, the more they were baflled. If 
they heard of Rugg one day in Connecticut, the next they 
heard of him winding round the hills in New Hampshire ; 
and soon after a man in a chair, with a small child, exactly 
answering the descrij)tion of Peter Rugg, would be seen in 
Rhode Island inquiring the way to Boston. 

" But that which chiefly gave a color of mystery to the 
story of Peter Rugg was the affair at Charlestown bridge. 
The toll-gatherer asserted that sometimes, on the darkest 
and most stormy nights, when no ol)ject could be dis- 
cerned, about the time Rugg was missing, a horse and 
wheel-carriage, with a noise equal to a troop, would at 
midnight, in utter contempt of the rates of toll, pass over 
the bridge. This occurred so frequently that the toll- 
gatherer resolved to attempt a discovery. Soon after, at 
the usual time, apparently the same horse and carriage 
approached the bridge from Charlestown square. The toll- 
gatherer, prepared, took his stand as near the middle of 
the bridge as he dared, with a large three-legged stool in 
his hand ; as the appearance passed, he threw the stool 
at the horse, but heard nothing except the noise of the 
stool skipping across the bridge. The toll-gatherer on 
the next day asserted that the stool went directly through 
the body of the horse, and he persisted in that belief ever 
after, "Whether Rugg, or whoever the person was, ever 



THE MISSING MAN. 17 

passed the bridge again, the toll-gatherer would never tell ; 
and when questioned, seemed anxious to waive the subject. 
And thus Peter Uugg and his child, horse, and carriage, 
remain a mystery to this day." 

This, sir, is all that I could learn of Peter Rugg in 
Boston. 



FURTHER ACCOUNT OF PETER RUGG. 
By Jonathan Dunwell. 

In the autumn of 1825 I attended the races at Richmond 
in Virginia. As two new horses of great promise were 
run, the race-ground was never better attended, nor was 
expectation ever more deeply excited. The partisans of 
Dart and Lightning, the two race-horses, were equally 
anxious and equally dubious of the result. To an indiffer- 
ent spectator, it was impossible to perceive any difference. 
They were equally beautiful to behold, alike in color and 
height, and as they stood side by side they measured from 
heel to forefeet within half an inch of each other. The 
eyes of each were full, prominent, and resolute ; and 
when at times they regarded each other, they assumed a 
lofty demeanor, seemed to shorten their necks, project 
their eyes, and rest their bodies equally on their four 
hoofs. They certainly showed signs of intelligence, and 
displayed a courtesy to each other unusual even with 
statesmen. 

It was now nearly twelve o'clock, the hour of expecta- 
tion, doubt, and anxiety. The riders mounted their horses ; 
and so trim, light, and airy they sat on the animals as 
to seem a part of them. The spectators, many deep in a 
solid column, had taken their places, and as many thou- 

2 



18 PETER RUGG, 

sand breathing statues were there as spectators. All eyes 
were turned to Dart and Lightning and their two fairy 
riders. There was nothing to disturb this calm except 
a busy woodpecker on a neighboring tree. The signal 
was given, and Dart and Lightning answered it with 
ready intelligence. At first they proceed at a slow trot, 
then they quicken to a canter, and then a gallop ; pres- 
ently they sweep the plain. Both horses lay themselves 
flat on the ground, their riders bending forward and rest- 
ing their chins between their horses' ears. Had not the 
ground been perfectly level, had there been any undula- 
tion, the least rise and fall, the spectator would now and 
then have lost sight of both horses and riders. 

While these horses, side by side, thus appeared, flying 
without wings, flat as a hare, and neither gaining on the 
other, all eyes were diverted to a new spectacle. Directly 
in the rear of Dart and Lightning, a majestic black horse 
of unusual size, drawing an old weather-beaten chair, 
strode over the plain ; and although he appeared to make 
no effort, for he maintained a steady trot, before Dart and 
Lightning approached the goal the black horse and chair 
had overtaken the racers, who, on perceiving this new 
competitor pass them, threw back their ears, and suddenly 
stopped in their course. Thus neither Dart nor Lightning 
carried away the purse. 

The spectators now were exceedingly curious to learn 
whence came the black horse and chair. With many it 
was the opinion that nobody was in the vehicle. Lideed, 
this began to be the prevalent opinion ; for those at a short 
distance, so fleet was the black horse, could not easily 
discern who, if anybody, was in the carriage. But both 
the riders, very near to whom the black horse passed, 
agreed in this particular, — that a sad-looking man and 
a little girl were in the chair. When they stated this I 



THE MISSING MAN. 19 

was satisfied that the man was Peter Rugg. But what 
caused no little surprise, John Spring, one of the riders 
(he who rode Lightning) asserted that no earthly horse 
without breaking his trot could, in a carriage, outstrip 
his race-horse ; and he persisted, with some passion, that 
it was not a horse, — or, he was sure it was not a horse, 
but a large black ox. " What a great black ox can do," 
said John, " I cannot pretend to say ; but no race-horse, 
not even flying Childers, could out-trot Lightning in a 
fair race." 

This opinion of John Spring excited no little merriment, 
for it was obvious to every one that it was a powerful 
black horse that interrupted the race; but John Spring, 
jealous of Lightning's reputation as a horse, would rather 
have it thought that any other beast, even an ox, had been 
the victor. However, the " horse-laugh " at John Spring's 
expense was soon suppressed ; for as soon as Dart and 
Lightning began to breathe more freely, it was observed 
that both of them walked deliberately to the track of the 
race-ground, and putting their heads to the earth, sud- 
denly raised them again and began to snort. They re- 
peated this till John Spring said, — " These horses have 
discovered something strange ; they suspect foul play. Let 
me go and talk with Lightning." 

He went up to Lightning and took hold of his mane ; 
and Lightning put his nose toward the ground and smelt 
of the earth without touching it, then reared his head 
very high, and snorted so loudly that the sound echoed 
from the next hill. Dart did the same. John Spring 
stooped down to examine the spot where Lightning had 
smelled. In a moment he raised himself up, and the coun- 
tenance of the man was changed. His strength failed him, 
and he sidled against Lightning. 

At length John Spring recovered from his stupor and 



20 PETER RUGG, 

exclaimed, " It was an ox ! I told you it was an ox. No 
real horse ever yet beat Lightning." 

And now, on a close inspection of the black horse's 
tracks in the path, it was evident to every one that the 
forefeet of the black horse were cloven. Notwithstanding 
these appearances, to me it was evident that the strange 
horse was in reality a horse. Yet Avhen the people left the 
race-ground, I presume one half of all those present would 
have testified that a large black ox had distanced two of 
the fleetest coursers that ever trod the Virginia turf. So 
uncertain are all things called historical facts. 

While I was proceeding to my lodgings, pondering on 
the events of the day, a stranger rocie up to me, and 
accosted me thus, — " I think your name is Dun well, sir." 

" Yes, sir," I replied. 

" Did I not see you a year or two since in Boston, at the 
Marlborough Hotel ? " 

" Very likely, sir, for I was there." 

" And you heard a story about one Peter Rugg ? " 

« I recollect it all," said I. 

" The account you heard in Boston must be true, for here 
he was to-day. The man has found his way to Virginia, 
and for aught that appears, has been to Cape Horn. 1 
have seen him before to-day, but never saw him travel with 
such fearful velocity. Pray, sir, where does Peter Rugg 
spend his winters, for I have seen him only in summer, 
and always in foul weather, except this time ? " 

I replied, " No one knows where Peter Rugg spends his 
winters ; where or when he eats, drinks, sleeps, or lodges. 
He seems to have an indistinct idea of day and night, time 
and space, storm and sunshine. His only object is Boston. 
It appears to me that Rugg's horse has some control of 
the chair ; and that Rugg himself is, in some sort, under 
the control of his horse." 



THE MISSINa MAN. 21 

I then inquired of the stranger where he first saw the 
man and horse. 

" Why, sir," said he, " in the summer of 1824, 1 travelled 
to the North for my health ; and soon after I saw you at 
the Marlborough Hotel I returned homeward to Virginia, 
and, if my memory is correct, I saw this man and horse in 
every State between here and Massachusetts. Sometimes 
he would meet me, but oftener overtake me. He never 
spoke but once, and that once was in Delaware. On his 
approach he checked his horse with some difficulty. A 
more beautiful horse I never saw ; his hide was as fair and 
rotund and glossy as the skin of a Congo beauty. When 
Rugg's horse approached mine he reined in his neck, bent 
his ears forward until they met, and looked my horse full 
in the face. My horse immediately withered into half a 
horse, his hide curling up like a piece of burnt leather ; 
spell-bound, he was fixed to the earth as though a nail 
had been driven through each hoof. 

" ' Sir,' said Rugg, ' perhaps you are travelling to Boston ; 
and if so, I should be happy to accompany you, for I have lost 
my way, and I must reach home to-night. See how sleepy 
this little girl looks ; poor thing, she is a picture of patience.' 

" ' Sir,' said I, ' it is impossible for you to reach home 
to-night, for you are in Concord, in the county of Sussex, 
in the State of Delaware.' 

" ' What do you mean,' said he, ' by State of Delaware ? 
If I were in Concord, that is only twenty miles from Bos- 
ton, and my horse Lightfoot could carry me to Charles- 
town ferry in less than two hours. You mistake, sir ; you 
are a stranger here ; this town is nothing like Concord. 
I am well acquainted with Concord. I went to Concord 
when I left Boston.' 

" ' But,' said I, ' you are in Concord, in the State of 
Delaware.' 



22 PETER RUGG, 

" ' What do you mean by State ? ' said Rugg. 

" ' Why, one of the United States.' 

" ' States ! ' said he, in a low voice ; ' the man is a wag, 
and would persuade rac I am in Holland.' Then, raising 
his voice, he said, ' You seem, sir, to be a gentleman, 
and I entreat you to mislead me not : tell me, quickly, for 
pity's sake, the right road to Boston, for you see my horse 
will swallow his bits ; he has eaten nothing since I left 
Concord.' 

"'Sir,' said I, ' this town is Concord, — Concord in Dela- 
ware, not Concord in Massachusetts ; and you are now five 
hundred miles from Boston.' 

" Rugg looked at me for a moment, more in sorrow than 
resentment, and then repeated, ' Five hundred miles ! Un- 
happy man, who would have thought him deranged ; but 
nothing in this world is so deceitful as appearances. Five 
hundred miles ! This beats Connecticut River.' 

" What he meant by Connecticut River, I know not ; his 
horse broke away, and Rugg disappeared in a moment." 

I explained to the stranger the meaning of Rugg's ex- 
pression, " Connecticut River," and the incident respecting 
him that occurred at Hartford, as I stood on the door- 
stone of Mr. Bennett's excellent hotel. We both agreed 
that the man we had seen that day was the true Peter 
Rugg. 

Soon after, I saw Rugg again, at the toll-gate on the 
turnpike between Alexandria and Middleburgh. While I 
was paying the toll, I observed to the toll-gatherer, that 
the drought was more severe in his vicinity than farther 
south. 

" Yes," said he, " the drought is excessive ; but if I had 
not heard yesterday, by a traveller, that the man with the 
black horse was seen in Kentucky a day or two since, I 
should be sure of a shower in a few minutes." 



THE MISSING MAN. 23 

I looked all around the horizon, and could not discern 
a cloud that could hold a pint of water. 

" Look, sir," said the toll-gatherer, " you perceive to the 
eastward, just above that hill, a small black cloud not 
bigger than a blackberry, and while I am speaking it is 
doubling and trebling itself, and rolling up the turnpike 
steadily, as if its sole design was to deluge some object." 

" True," said I, " I do perceive it ; but what connection 
is there between a thunder-cloud and a man and horse ? " 

" More than you imagine, or I can tell you ; but stop a 
moment, sir, I may need your assistance. I know that 
cloud ; I have seen it several times before, and can testify 
to its identity. You w^ill soon see a man and black horse 
under it." 

While he was speaking, true enough, we began to hear 
the distant thunder, and soon the chain-lightning per- 
formed all the figures of a country-dance. About a mile 
distant we saw the man and black horse under the cloud ; 
but before he arrived at the toll-gate, the thunder-cloud 
had spent itself, and not even a sprinkle fell near us. 

As the man, whom I instantly knew to be Rugg, at- 
tempted to pass, the toll-gatherer swung the gate across 
the road, seized Rugg's horse by the reins, and demanded 
two dollars. 

Feeling some little regard for Rugg, I interfered, and 
began to question the toll-gatherer, and requested him not 
to be wroth with the man. The toll-gatherer replied that 
he had just cause, for the man had run his toll ten times, 
and moreover that the horse had discharged a cannon-ball 
at him, to the great danger of his life ; that the man 
had always before approaclied so rapidly that he was too 
quick for the rusty hinges of the toll-gate ; " but now I 
will have full satisfaction." 

Rugg looked wistfully at me, and said, " I entreat you, 



.24 PETER RUGG, 

sir, to delay me not ; I have found at length the direct 
road to Boston, and shall not reach home before night if 
you detain me. You see 1 am dripping wet, and ought 
to change my clothes." 

The toll-gatherer then demanded why he had run his 
toll so many times. 

" Toll ! Why," said Rugg, " do you demand toll ? There 
is no toll to pay on the king's highway." 

" King's highway ! Do you nut perceive this is a 
turnpike ? " 

" Turnpike ! there are no turnpikes in Massachusetts." 

"That may be, but we have several in Virginia." 

" Virginia ! Do you pretend I am in Virginia ? " 

Rugg then, appealing to mc, asked how far it was to 
Boston. 

Said I, " Mr. Rugg, I perceive you are bewildered, and 
am sorry to see you so far from home ; you are, indeed, 
in Virginia." 

"You know me, tlien, sir, it seems ; and you say I am 
in Virginia. Give me leave to tell you, sir, you are the 
most impudent man alive ; for I was never forty miles 
from Boston, and I never saw a Virginian in my life. 
This beats Delaware ! " 

" Your toll, sir, your toll ! " 

" I will not pay you a penny," said Rugg ; " you are both 
of you highway robbers. There are no turnpikes in this 
country. Take toll on the king's highway ! Robbers take 
toll on the king's highway ! " Then in a low tone, he said, 
" Here is evidently a conspiracy against me ; alas, I shall 
never see Boston ! The highways refuse me a passage, the 
rivers change their courses, and there is no faith in the 
compass." 

But Rugg's horse had no idea of stopping more than one 
minute ; for in the midst of this altercation, the horse, 



THE MISSING MAN. 25 

whose nose was resting on the upper bar of the turnpike- 
gate, seized it between his teeth, lifted it gently off its 
staples, and trotted off with it. The toll-gatherer, con- 
founded, strained his eyes after his gate. 

" Let him go," said I, "the horse will soon drop your 
gate, and you will get it again." 

I then questioned the toll-gatherer respecting his 
knowledge of this man ; and he related the following 
particulars : — 

" The first time," said he, " that man ever passed this 
toll-gate was in the year 1806, at the moment of the great 
eclipse. I thought the horse was frightened at the sudden 
darkness, and concluded he had run away with the man. 
But within a few days after, the same man and horse 
repassed with equal speed, without the least respect to the 
toll-gate or to me, except by a vacant stare. Some few 
years afterward, during the late war, I saw the same man 
approaching again, and I resolved to check his career. 
Accordingly I stepped into the middle of the road, and 
stretched wide both my arms, and cried, * Stop, sir, on your 
peril!' At this the man said, 'Now, Lightfoot, confound 
the robber ! ' at the same time he gave the whip liberally 
to the flank of his horse, which bounded off with such force 
that it appeared to me two such horses, give them a place 
to stand, would overcome any check man could devise. 
An ammunition wagon which had just passed on to Bal- 
timore had dropped an eighteen pounder in the road; 
this unlucky ball lay in the way of the horse's heels, and 
the beast, with the sagacity of a demon, clinched it with 
one of his heels and hurled it behind him. I feel dizzy 
in relating the fact, but so nearly did the ball pass my 
head, that the wind thereof blew off my hat ; and the ball 
embedded itself in that gate-post, as you may see if you will 
cast your eye on the post. I have permitted it to remain 



26 PETER RUGG, 

there in memory of the occurrence, — as the people of Bos- 
ton, I am told, preserve the eightcen-poundcr which is now 
to be seen half embedded in Brattle Street church." 

I then took leave of the toll-gatherer, and promised him 
if I saw or heard of his gate I would send hhn notice. 

A strong inclination had possessed me to arrest Rugg 
and search his pockets, thinking great discoveries might 
be made in the examination ; but what I saw and heard 
that day convinced me that no human force could detain 
Peter Rugg against his consent. I therefore determined 
if I ever saw Rugg again to treat him in the gentlest 
manner. 

In pursuing my way to New York, I entered on the 
turnpike in Trenton ; and when I arrived at New Bruns- 
wick, I perceived the road was newly macadamized. The 
small stones had just been laid thereon. As I passed this 
piece of road, I observed that, at regular distances of about 
eight feet, the stones were entirely displaced from spots 
as lai'gc as the circumference of a half-bushel measure. 
This singular appearance induced me to inquire the cause 
of it at the turnpike-gate. 

"Sir," said the toll-gatherer, "I wonder not at the ques- 
tion, but I am unable to give you a satisfactory answer. 
Indeed, sir, I believe I am bewitched, and that the turn- 
pike is under a spell of enchantment ; for what appeared 
to me last night cannot be a real transaction, otherwise 
a turnpike-gate is a useless thing." 

" I do not believe in witchcraft or enchantment," said I ; 
" and if you will relate circumstantially what happened last 
night, I will endeavor to account for it by natural means." 

" You may recollect the night was uncommonly dark. 
"Well, sir, just after I had closed the gate for the night, 
down the turnpike, as far as my eye could reach, I beheld 
what at first appeared to be two armies engaged. The 



THE MISSING MAN. 27 

report of the musketry, and the flashes of their firelocks, 
were incessant and continuous. As this strange spectacle 
approached me with the fury of a tornado, the noise in- 
creased ; and the appearance rolled on in one compact body 
over the surface of the ground. The most splendid fire- 
works rose out of the earth and encircled this moving 
spectacle. The divers tints of the rainbow, the most brill- 
iant dyes that the sun lays in the lap of spring, added to 
the whole family of gems, could not display a more beau- 
tiful, radiant, and dazzling spectacle than accompanied the 
black horse. You would have thought all the stars of 
heaven had met in merriment on the turnpike. In the 
midst of this luminous configuration sat a man, distinctly 
to be seen, in a miserable-looking chair, drawn by a black 
horse. The turnpike-gate ought, by the laws of Nature 
and the laws of the State, to have made a wreck of the 
whole, and have dissolved the enchantment; but no, the 
horse without an effort passed over the gate, and drew 
the man and chair horizontally after him without touch- 
ing the bar. This was what I call enchantment. "What 
think you, sir ?" 

" My friend," said I, " you have grossly magnified a nat- 
ural occurrence. The man was Peter Rugg, on his way 
to Boston. It is true, his horse travelled with unequalled 
speed, but as he reared high his forefeet, he could not 
help displacing the thousand small stones on which he 
trod, which flying in all directions struck one another, and 
resounded and scintillated. The top bar of your gate is not 
more than two feet from the ground, and Rugg's horse at 
every vault could easily lift the carriage over that gate." 

This satisfied Mr. McDoubt, and I was pleased at that 
occurrence ; for otherwise Mr. McDoubt, who is a worthy 
man, late from the Higlilands, might have added to his 
calendar of superstitions. Having thus disenchanted the 



28 PETER EUGG, 

macadamized road and the turnpike-gate, and also Mr. 
McDoubt, I pursued my journey homeward to New York. 

Little did I expect to see or hear anything further of Mr. 
Ruo-o;, for he was now more than twelve hours in advance 
of me. I could hear nothing of him on my way to Eliza- 
bethtown, and therefore concluded that during the past 
night he had turned off from the turnpike and pursued 
a westerly direction ; but just before I arrived at Powles's 
Hook, I observed a considerable collection of passengers 
in the ferry-boat, all standing motionless, and steadily 
looking at the same object. One of the ferry-men, Mr. 
Hardy, who knew me well, observing my approach de- 
layed a minute, in order to afford mc a passage, and 
coming up, said, " Mr. Dunwcll, we have a curiosity on 
board that would puzzle Dr. Mitchell." 

" Some strange fish, I suppose, has found its way into 
the Hudson." 

" No," said he, " it is a man who looks as if he had 
lain hidden in the ark, and had just now ventured out. 
He has a little girl with him, the counterpart of himself, 
and the finest horse you ever saw, harnessed to the 
queerest-looking carriage that ever was made." 

" Ah, Mr. Hardy," said I, " you have, indeed, hooked a 
prize ; no one before you could ever detain Peter Rugg 
long enough to examine him." 

" Do you know the man ? " said Mr. Hardy. 

" No, nobody knows him, but everybody has seen him. 
Detain him as long as possible ; delay the boat under any 
pretence, cut the gear of the horse, do anything to detain 
him." 

As I entered the ferry-boat, I was struck at the spectacle 
before me. There, indeed, sat Peter Rugg and Jenny Rugg 
in the chair, and there stood the black horse, all as quiet 
as lambs, surrounded by more than fifty men and women. 



THE MISSING MAN. 29 

who seemed to have lost all their senses but one. Not a 
motion, not a breath, not a nestle. They were all eye. 
Rugg appeared to them to be a man not of this world ; and 
they appeared to Rugg a strange generation of men. Rugg 
spoke not, and they spoke not; nor was I disposed to dis- 
turb the calm, satisfied to reconnoitre Rugg in a state of 
rest. Presently, Rugg observed in a low voice, addressed 
to nobody, "A new contrivance, horses instead of oars; 
Boston folks are full of notions." 

It was plain that Rugg was of Dutch extraction. He 
had on three pairs of small clothes, called in former 
days of simplicity breeches, not much the worse for 
wear ; but time had proved the fabric, and shrunk one 
more than another, so that they showed at the knees 
their different qualities and colors. His several waist- 
coats, the flaps of which rested on his knees, made him 
appear rather corpulent. His capacious drab coat would 
supply the stuff for half a dozen modern ones ; the sleeves 
were like meal bags, in the cuffs of which you might 
nurse a child to sleep. His hat, probably once black, now 
of a tan color, was neither round nor crooked, but in shape 
much like the one President Monroe wore on his late tour. 
This dress gave the rotund face of Rugg an antiquated dig' 
nity. The man, though deeply sunburned, did not appear 
to be more than thirty years of age. He had lost his sad 
and anxious look, was quite composed, and seemed happy. 
The chair in which Rugg sat was very capacious, evidently 
made for service, and calculated to last for ages; the 
timber would supply material for three modern carriages. 
This chair, like a Nantucket coach, would answer for every- 
thing that ever went on wheels. The horse, too, was an 
object of curiosity ; his majestic height, his natural mane 
and tail, gave him a commanding appearance, and his 
large open nostrils indicated inexhaustible wind. It was 



30 PETER RUGG, 

apparent that the hoofs of his forefeet had been split, 
probably on some newly macadamized road, and were now 
growing together again ; so that John Spring was not 
altogether in the wrong. 

How long this dumb scene would otherwise have con- 
tinued I cannot tell. Rugg discovered no sign of im- 
patience. But Rugg's horse having been quiet more than 
five minutes, had no idea of standing idle ; he began to 
whinny, and in a moment after, with his right forefoot he 
started a plank. Said Rugg, " My horse is impatient, he 
sees the North End. You must be quick, or he will be 
ungovernable." 

At these words, the horse raised his left forefoot ; and 
when he laid it down every inch of the ferry-boat trembled. 
Two men immediately seized Rugg's horse by the nostrils. 
The horse nodded, and both of them were in the Hudson. 
"While we were fishing up the men, the horse was perfectly 
quiet. 

" Fret not the horse," said Rugg, " and he will do no 
harm. He is only anxious, like myself, to arrive at yonder 
beautiful shore; he sees the North Church, and smells 
his own stable." 

" Sir," said I to Rugg, practising a little deception, 
" pray tell me, for I am a stranger here, what river is this, 
and wliat city is that opposite, for you. seem to be an 
inhabitant of it ? " 

" This river, sir, is called Mystic River, and this is Win- 
nisimmet ferry, — we have retained the Indian names, — 
and that town is Boston. You must, indeed, be a stranger 
in these parts, not to know that yonder is Boston, the 
capital of the New England provinces." 

" Pray, sir, how long have you been absent from 
Boston ? " 

" Why, that I cannot exactly tell. I lately went with 



THE MISSING MAN. 31 

this little girl of mine to Concord, to see my friends ; 
and I am ashamed to tell you, in returning lost the way, 
and have been travelling ever since. No one would direct 
me right. It is cruel to mislead a traveller. My horse, 
Lightfoot, has boxed the compass ; and it seems to me he 
has boxed it back again. But, sir, you perceive my horse 
is uneasy ; Lightfoot, as yet, has only given a hint and a 
nod. I cannot be answerable for his heels." 

At these words Lightfoot reared his long tail, and 
snapped it as you would a whiplash. The Hudson re- 
verberated with the sound. Instantly the six horses be- 
gan to move the boat. The Hudson was a sea of glass, 
smooth as oil^ not a ripple. The horses, from a smart trot, 
soon pressed into a gallop ; water now run over the gun- 
wale ; the ferry-boat was soon buried in an ocean of foam, 
and the noise of the spray was like the roaring of many 
waters. When we arrived at New York, you might see 
the beautiful white wake of the ferry-boat across the 
Hudson. 

Though Rugg refused to pay toll at turnpikes, when Mr. 
Hardy reached his hand for the ferriage, Rugg readily put 
his hand into one of his many pockets, took out a piece 
of silver, and handed it to Hardy. 

"What is this?" said Mr. Hardy. 

" It is thirty shillings," said Rugg. 

"It might once have been thirty shillings, old tenor," 
said Mr. Hardy, "but it is not at present." 

" The money is good English coin," said Rugg ; " my 
grandfather brought a bag of them from England, and 
had them hot from the mint." 

Hearing this, I approached near to Rugg, and asked 
permission to see the coin. It was a half-crown, coined 
by the English Parliament, dated in the year 1649. On 
one side, " The Commonwealth of England," and St. 



32 PETER RUGG, 

George's cross encircled with a wreath of laurel. On the 
other, " God with us," and a harp and St. George's cross 
united. I winked at Mr. Hardy, and pronounced it good 
current money ; and said loudly, " I will not permit the 
gentleman to be imposed on, for I will exchange the 
money myself." 

On this, Rugg spoke, — " Please to give me your name, 
sir." 

" My name is Dunwell, sir," I replied. 

" Mr. Dunwell," said Rugg, " you are the only honest 
man I have seen since I left Boston. As you are a stran- 
ger here, my house is your home ; Dame Rugg will be 
happy to see her husband's friend. Step into my chair, 
sir, there is room enough ; move a little, Jenny, for the 
gentleman, and we will be in Middle Street in a minute." 

Accordingly I took a seat by Peter Rugg. 

" Were you never in Boston before ? " said Rugg. 

« No," said I. 

" "Well, you will now see the queen of New England, a 
town second only to Philadelphia, in all North America." 

" You forget New York," said I. 

"Poh, New York is nothing; though I never was there. 
I am told you might put all New York in our mill-pond. 
No, sir, New York, I assure you, is but a sorry affair; no 
more to be compared with Boston than a wigwam with 
a palace." 

As Rugg's horse turned into Pearl Street, I looked Rugg 
as fully in the face as good manners would allow, and said, 
" Sir, if this is Boston, I acknowledge New York is not 
worthy to be one of its suburbs." 

Before we had proceeded far in Pearl Street, Rugg's 
countenance changed : his nerves began to twitch ; his eyes 
trembled in their sockets; he was evidently bewildered. 
"What' is the matter, Mr. Rugg; you seem disturbed." 



THE MISSING MAN. 33 

" This surpasses all human comprehension ; if you know, 
sir, where we are, I beseech you to tell me." 

" If this place," I replied, " is not Boston, it must be 
New York." 

" No, sir, it is not Boston ; nor can it be New York. 
How could I be in New York, which is nearly two hun- 
dred miles from Boston?" 

By this time we had passed into Broadway, and then 
Rugg, in truth, discovered a chaotic mind. " There is 
no such place as this in North America. This is all the 
effect of enchantment ; this is a grand delusion, nothing 
real. Here is seemingly a great city, magnificent houses, 
shops and goods, men and women innumerable, and as 
busy as in real life, all sprung up in one night from the 
wilderness ; or what is more probable, some tremendous 
convulsion of Nature has thrown London or Amsterdam 
on the shores of New England. Or, possibly, 1 may be 
dreaming, though the night seems rather long ; but before 
now I have sailed in one night to Amsterdam, bought goods 
of Yandogger, and returned to Boston before morning." 

At this moment a hue-and-cry was heard, " Stop the 
madmen, they will endanger the lives of thousands ! " In 
vain hundreds attempted to stop Rugg's horse. Lightfoot 
interfered with nothing ; his course was straight as a 
shooting-star. But on my part, fearful that before night 
I should find myself behind the Alleghanies, I addressed 
Mr. Rugg in a tone of entreaty, and requested him to 
restrain the horse and permit me to alight. 

" My friend," said he, " we shall be in Boston before 
dark, and Dame Rugg will be most exceeding glad to 
see us." 

" Mr. Rugg," said I, " you must excuse me. Pray look 
to the west ; see that thunder-cloud swelling with rage, as 
if in pursuit of us." 

3 



34 PETER RUGG, 

" Ah," said Rugg, " it is in vain to attempt to escape. 
I know that cloud ; it is collecting new wrath to spend on 
my head." Then checking his horse, he permitted me to 
descend, saying, " Farewell, Mr. Dunwell, I shall be happy 
to see you in Boston ; I live in Middle Street." 

It is uncertain in what direction Mr. Rugg pursued his 
course, after he disappeared in Broadway ; but one thing 
is sufficiently known to everybody, — that in the course of 
two months after he was seen in New York, he found his 
way most opportunely to Boston. 

It seems the estate of Peter Rugg had recently fallen to 
the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for want of heirs ; 
and the Legislature had ordered the solicitor-general to 
advertise and sell it at public auction. Happening to be 
in Boston at the time, and observing his advertisement, 
which described a considerable extent of land, I felt a 
kindly curiosity to see the spot where Rugg once lived. 
Taking the advertisement in my hand, I wandered a little 
way down Middle Street, and without asking a question 
of any one, when I came to a certain spot I said to my- 
self, " This is Rugg's estate ; I will proceed no farther. 
This must be the spot ; it is a counterpart of Peter 
Rugg." The premises, indeed, looked as if they had ful- 
filled a sad prophecy. Fronting on Middle Street, they 
extended in the rear to Ann Street, and embraced about 
half an acre of land. It was not uncommon in former 
times to have half an acre for a house-lot ; for an acre 
of land then, in many parts of Boston, was not more 
valuable than a foot in some places at present. The old 
mansion-house had become a powder-post, and been blown 
away. One other building, uninhabited, stood ominous, 
courting dilapidation. The street had been so much raised 
that the bed-chamber had descended to the kitchen and was 
level with the street. The house seemed conscious of its 



THE MISSING MAN. 35 

fate ; and as though tired of standing there, the front was 
fast retreating from the rear, and waiting the next south 
wind to project itself into the street. If the most wary 
animals had sought a place of refuge, here they would 
have rendezvoused. Here, under the ridge-pole, the crow 
would have perched in security ; and in the recesses be- 
low, you might have caught the fox and the weasel asleep. 
" The hand of destiny," said I, " has pressed heavy on 
this spot ; still heavier on the former owners. Strange 
that so large a lot of land as this should want an heir ! 
Yet Peter Rugg, at this day, might pass by his own door- 
stone, and ask, ' Who once lived here ? ' " 

The auctioneer, appointed by the solicitor to sell this 
estate, was a man of eloquence, as many of the auctioneers 
of Boston are. The occasion seemed to warrant, and his 
duty urged, him to make a display. He addressed his 
audience as follows, — 

" The estate, gentlemen, which we offer you this day, 
was once the property of a family now extinct. For that 
reason it has escheated to the Commonwealth. Lest any 
one of you should be deterred from bidding on so large 
an estate as this for fear of a disputed title, I am author- 
ized by the solicitor-general to proclaim that the purchaser 
shall have the best of all titles, — a warranty-deed from the 
Commonwealth. I state *this, gentlemen, because I know 
there is an idle rumor in this vicinity, that one Peter Rugg, 
the original owner of this estate, is still living. This 
rumor, gentlemen, has no foundation, and can have no 
foundation in the nature of things. It originated about 
two years since, from the incredible story of one Jonathan 
Dunwell, of New York. Mrs. Croft, indeed, whose hus- 
band I see present, and whose mouth waters for this estate, 
has countenanced this fiction. But, gentlemen, was it ever 
known that any estate, especially an estate of this value, 



36 PETER RUGG, 

lay unclaimed for nearly half a century, if any heir, ever so 
remote, were existing ? For, gentlemen, all agree that old 
Peter Rugg, if living, would be at least one hundred years 
of age. It is said that he and his daughter, with a horse 
and chaise, were missed more than half a century ago ; and 
because they never returned home, forsooth, they must be 
now living, and will some day come and claim this great 
estate. Such logic, gentlemen, never led to a good invest- 
ment. Let not this idle story cross the noble purpose of 
consigning these ruins to the genius of architecture. If 
such a contingency could check the spirit of enterprise, 
farewell to all mercantile excitement. Your surplus money, 
instead of refreshing your sleep with the golden dreams of 
new sources of speculation, would turn to the nightmare. 
A man's money, if not employed, serves only to disturb his 
rest. Look, then, to the prospect before you. Here is half 
an acre of land, — more than twenty thousand square feet, — 
a corner lot, with wonderful capabilities ; none of your con- 
tracted lots of forty feet by fifty, where, in dog-days, you 
can breathe only through your scuttles. On the contrary, 
an architect cannot contemplate this lot of land without 
rapture, for here is room enough for his genius to shame 
the temple of Solomon. Then the prospect — how com- 
manding ! To the east, so near to the Atlantic that Nep- 
tune, freighted with the select treasures of the whole earth, 
can knock at your door with his trident. From the west, 
the produce of the river of Paradise — the Connecticut — 
will soon, by the blessings of steam, railways, and canals, 
pass under your windows ; and thus, on this spot, Neptune 
shall marry Ceres, and Pomona from Roxbury, and Flora 
from Cambridge, shall dance at the wedding. 

" Gentlemen of science, men of taste, ye of the literary 
emporium, — for I perceive many of you present, — to you 
this is holy ground. If the spot on which in times past 



THE MISSING MAN. 37 

a hero left only the print of a footstep is now sacred, of 
what price is the birthplace of one who all the world 
knows was born in Middle Street, directly opposite to this 
lot ; and who, if his birthplace were not well known, would 
now be claimed by more than seven cities. To you, then, 
the value of these premises must be inestimable. For 
ere long there will arise in full view of the edifice to be 
erected here, a monument, the wonder and veneration of 
the world. A column shall spring to the clouds ; and on 
that column will be engraven one word which will convey 
all that is wise in intellect, useful in science, good in 
morals, prudent in counsel, and benevolent in principle, — 
a name of one who, when living, was the patron of the 
poor, the delight of the cottage, and the admiration of 
kings ; now dead, worth the whole seven wise men of 
Greece. Need I tell you his name ? He fixed the thun- 
der and guided the lightning. 

" Men of the North End ! Need I appeal to your patriot- 
ism, in order to enhance the value of this lot ? The earth 
affords no such scenery as this ; there, around that corner, 
lived James Otis ; here, Samuel Adams ; there, Joseph 
"Warren ; and around that other corner, Josiah Quincy. 
Here was the birthplace of Freedom ; here Liberty was 
born, and nursed, and grew to manhood. Here man was 
newly created. Here is the nursery of American Inde- 
pendence — I am too modest — here began the eman- 
cipation of the world ; a thousand generations hence 
millions of men will cross the Atlantic just to look at 
the north end of Boston. Your fathers — what do I 
say — yourselves, — yes, this moment, I behold several at- 
tending this auction who lent a hand to rock the cradle 
of Independence. 

" Men of speculation, — ye who are deaf to everything ex- 
cept the sound of money, — you, I know, will give me both 



38 PETER RUGG, 

of your ears when 1 tell you the city of Boston must have 
a piece of this estate in order to widen Ann Street. Do 
you hear me, — do you all hear me ? I say the city must 
have a large, piece of this land in order to widen Ann 
Street. What a chance ! The city scorns to take a man's 
land for nothing. If it seizes your property, it is gen- 
erous beyond the dreams of avarice. The only oppres- 
sion is, you are in danger of being smothered under a load 
of wealth. "Witness the old lady who lately died of a 
broken heart when the mayor paid her for a piece of her 
kitchen-garden. All the faculty agreed that the sight of 
the treasure, which the mayor incautiously paid her in 
dazzling dollars, warm from the mint, sped joyfully all the 
blood of her body into her heart, and rent it with raptures. 
Therefore, let liim who purchases this estate fear his good 
fortune, and not Peter Rugg. Bid, then, liberally, and do 
not let the name of Rugg damp your ardor. How much 
will you give per foot for this estate ? " 

Thus spoke the auctioneer, and gracefully waved his 
ivory hammer. From fifty to seventy-five cents per foot 
were offered in a few moments. The bidding labored from 
seventy-five to ninety. At length one dollar was offered. 
The auctioneer seemed satisfied ; and looking at his watch, 
said he would knock off the estate in five minutes, if no 
one offered more. 

There was a deep silence during this short period. 
While the hammer was suspended, a strange rumbling 
noise was heard, which arrested the attention of every 
one. Presently, it was like the sound of many shipwrights 
driving home the bolts of a seventy-four. As the sound 
approached nearer, some exclaimed, " The buildings in the 
new market are falling in promiscuous ruins." Others 
said, " No, it is an earthquake ; we perceive the earth 
tremble." Others said, " Not so ; the sound proceeds from 



THE MISSING MAN. 39 

Hanover Street, and approaches nearer ; " and this proved 
true, for presently Peter Rugg was in the midst of us. 

" Alas, Jenny," said Peter, " I am ruined ; our house 
has been burned, and here are all our neighbors around the 
ruins. Heaven grant your mother. Dame Rugg, is safe." 

" They don't look like our neighbors," said Jenny ; " but 
sure enough our house is burned, and nothing left but 
the door-stone and an old cedar post. Do ask where 
mother is." 

In the mean time more than a thousand men had sur- 
rounded Rugg and his horse and chair. Yet neither 
Rugg, personally, nor his horse and carriage, attracted 
more attention than the auctioneer. The confident look 
and searching eyes of Rugg carried more conviction to 
every one present that the estate was his, than could any 
parchment or paper with signature and seal. The impres- 
sion which the auctioneer had just made on the company 
was effaced in a moment ; and although the latter words of 
the auctioneer were, " Fear not Peter Rugg," the moment 
the auctioneer met the eye of Rugg his occupation was 
gone ; his arm fell down to his hips, his late lively hammer 
hung heavy in his hand, and the auction was forgotten. 
The black horse, too, gave his evidence. He knew his 
journey was ended ; for he stretched himself into a horse 
and a half, rested his head over the cedar post, and 
whinnied thrice, causing his harness to tremble from 
headstall to crupper. 

Rugg then stood upright in his chair, and asked with 
some authority, " Who has demolished my house in my 
absence, for I see no signs of a conflagration ? I demand 
by what accident this has happened, and wherefore this 
collection of strange people has assembled before my door- 
step. I thought I knew every man in Boston, but you 
appear to me a new generation of men. Yet I am familiar 



40 PETER RUGG. 

with manj of the countenances here present, and I can call 
some of you by name ; but in truth I do not recollect that 
before this moment I ever saw any one of you. There, I 
am certain, is a Winslow, and here a Sargent ; there stands 
a Sewall, and next to him a Dudley. Will none of you 
speak to me, — or is this all a delusion? I see, indeed, 
many forms of men, and no want of eyes, but of motion, 
speech, and hearing, you seem to be destitute. Strange ! 
Will no one inform me who lias demolished my house ? " 

Then spake a voice from the crowd, but whence it came 
I could not discern : " There is nothing strange here but 
yourself, Mr. Rugg. Time, which destroys and renews all 
things, has dilapidated your house, and placed us here. 
You have suffered many years under an illusion. The 
tempest which you profanely defied at ISIenotomy has at 
length subsided ; but you will never see home, for your 
house and wife and neighbors have all disappeared. Your 
estate, indeed, remains, but no home. You were cut off 
from the last age, and you can never be fitted to the 
present. Your home is gone, and you can never have 
another home in this world." 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTEKSTROM. 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 



THE great wealth of the late Joseph Natterstrom, of 
New York, was connected with several remarkable 
incidents, which under the pen of a writer of ordinary 
imagination might grow into a romantic tale. 

The merchant of the United States frequently traces the 
origin of his prosperity to foreign climes. He holds a 
magic wand in his hand which reaches to the extremity of 
the globe ; and if he waves it judiciously, he levies from 
all quarters of the world princely revenues. The restless 
sea and its richest contents, desolate islands and the most 
circuitous rivers, the cultiyated territory and the intermi- 
nable wilderness, are as much the merchant's, as the rain 
and sunshine, the warm breezes and the fattening dews, 
are the property of the husbandman. But the embryo 
fortune of Mr. Natterstrom was not of mercantile origin ; 
it came from the heart of Arabia, and grew out of an in- 
cursion of the Wheehabites, — a reforming and fanatic sect 
of Mahometans, who date from Abdul Wheehab, of the last 
century. This man, like Martin Luther, thought a refor- 
mation in morals and discipline had become necessary. 

About the year 1790, Ebn Beg and Ibrahim Hamet were 
returning home from Mecca to Abou Jbee, a village not far 
from the Rumleah mountains. They had united religion 
and trade together, as is sometimes done here by the sons 
of Mercury. In performing their pilgrimage to Mecca with 
a caravan, they furthered both their temporal and eternal 



44 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

interests; for on their return from Mecca, they encoun- 
tered a party of those children of the desert who believe 
they have a divine right to all the goods of this world 
which they can conquer, and what they spare, they credit 
to their magnanimity and generosity, — and herein they do 
not greatly differ from most other people. But the cara- 
van of Beg and Hamet proved too powerful for the children 
of Hagar, who became the prey of the stranger. The spoils 
of that day enriched Beg and Hamet, for those Arabs 
had shortly before enriched themselves at the expense of 
another caravan. 

With joyful hearts these two men approached home, 
having left the caravan at the intersection of the road that 
leads to Aleppo, rejoicing that their danger was over, that 
they had honorably obtained an accession of wealth, and 
that they had become entitled to the coveted name of 
Hadji. But there soon came a blast from the desert 
which converted the shady spot, on which they had en- 
camped, into a sand-heap. When within a day's journey 
from home they met a man whom they knew. It was 
Ali Beker. Said they, " Is there peace at Abou Jbec ? " 
" God is great, there is peace at Abou Jbec," said Ali 
Beker, " the peace of the grave." He turned his head 
away, and said no more. Their hearts withered within 
them. Soon after they met another man ; as he ap- 
proached them, he looked at them earnestly for some 
time, and then said, " Do I behold the unhappy Beg and 
Hamet ! " and he tore off his turban and flung it on 
the ground. Tliey passed on, neither Beg uor Hamet 
speaking to each other. At length they approached the 
confines of their village, and learned the whole. The 
Wheehabites had been there, and being powerfully resisted 
and nearly overcome, they left nothing but a heap of ruins 
to tell the story. Beg and Hamet were now alone on the 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 45 

face of the earth. They made a circuit around Abou Jbee, 
took a last look, and passed on to Smyrna. There they 
remained some time, and studied the French and English 
languages. 

From Smyrna they sailed to Marseilles ; and there they 
assumed the European dress, and studiously conformed 
to the manners of that people, — a seemingly impossible 
change, from a Turk to a Frenchman. From Marseilles 
they proceeded on foot to Paris ; and after remaining there 
a few months, they saw such strange mistakes made, that 
fearing they might lose their heads without a chance for 
explanation, they passed on to London, where they felt 
quite at home. There they remained during the winter of 
1793. Chancing to meet Captain Dixon of the New York 
packet, who had been in the Smyrna trade, they became 
attached to him from an accidental expression which fell 
from his lips at the New York Coffee House. Some one 
had asserted that there were not twenty merchants in the 
city of New York who could pass for genuine merchants 
on the Royal Exchange of London, — such was the mer- 
cantile honor of Englishmen. An appeal was made to 
Captain Dixon, who, waving a direct answer, said, " If you 
wish to find mercantile honor in perfection, surpassing the 
comprehension of a European, you must go to Turkey. A 
Turkish merchant's word is better than a Christian mer- 
chant's bond. The word is sacred ; the bond may be dis- 
puted. I have seen many a Turk in whose skin you might 
sew up half a dozen very decent Christians." " Allah ! " 
said Beg, in rapture, " an infidel has spoken the truth ! I 
wish the Prophet could hear that ! " This incident led to 
an acquaintance with Captain Dixon, who gave them such 
an account of the New World as excited their curiosity 
to see it. Accordingly, they sailed soon after with Cai> 
tain Dixon, for New York. 



46 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

Beg and Hamet could now speak the English lan- 
guage quite fluently ; and concealing that they were 
Turks, they passed in the principal cities and towns 
for very decent Christians. Among the people of New 
England they passed current for two Dutchmen of New 
York or Pennsylvania ; and at Baltimore they were sup- 
posed to be two Scotchmen, so prudently and discreetly 
did they demean themselves. They spent a year in the 
United States, the chief of the time at New York ; and 
during that time they found ample food for their minds. 
Hamet told Captain Dixon that he had brought him not 
only to a new world, but to a new race of men : a people 
not really civilized, yet far from savage ; not very good, 
nor altogether bad ; not generally intelligent, nor alto- 
gether ignorant ; a calculating people, who reckoned up 
their rights as often as they did their money. " In fine," 
said Hamet, " I perceive this is a very young country, but 
a very old people." 

As Beg and Hamet travelled through the States, they 
were surprised to find so much order and tranquillity 
among a people without any apparent government ; for 
during nearly the whole year there was no appearance of 
any government. In divers provinces, each of them bigger 
than the pachalic of Damascus, a few men would meet 
once a year, wind up the government like a clock, and 
leave it to run at random ; for after the public agents, 
like a dispersed caravan, had hastened home, all signs of 
government vanished. " How different," said Beg, " from 
all other countries, where the first object of government 
is to make itself seen, heard, and felt; whereas, among 
this strange people, you can neither see, hear, nor feel the 
government." 

Beg was greatly diverted in attending a lawsuit at Boston. 
" There were five reverend judges," he said, " with twelve 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 47 

men to help them, aided by four counsellors of the law, 
who consumed a whole day and part of a niglit in settling 
a case of twenty-five dollars ; and " said Beg, laughing, " the 
next morning the jury, as they called the twelve men, 
came solemnly into court and said they could not agree, 
and never would agree. Whereas," said Beg, " one of our 
cadis alone would have settled it in twenty minutes." 

A few days previous to Beg and Hamet's return to 
Smyrna, as Beg was passing down Wall Street, he heard 
a man say, as he was leaving one of the offices, " I don't 
believe there is an honest man in New York." " Oh, yes, 
there is," said another, as he was passing ; " there is Joe 
Natterstrom." At that moment an unaccountable trance- 
like feeling came over Beg, and a voice, which seemed to 
him audible, said, " Beg, before you leave the country, see 
Natterstrom and prove his honesty." Beg had not pro- 
ceeded far before he saw two men in conversation on the 
sidewalk ; and as he passed them he overheard one of them 
say, " Can I trust him with so much money ? Are you sure 
he is honest ? " " Yes," said the other, " honest as Joe 
Natterstrom." This second incident, to a Mussulman who 
believed in predestination, was as imperative as the voice 
of the Prophet. Beg responded aloud, " I will see Nat- 
terstrom and prove his honesty." Soon after he heard 
two men disputing in Broadway with no little passion ; 
and as he approached them, one said, " I will refer it to 
Joe Natterstrom." " Agreed," said the other. " So," said 
Beg, " this Natterstrom is also a man of judgment. I will 
certainly see Natterstrom and prove his honesty." 

The next day Beg inquired for Natterstrom, and soon 
learned that Natterstrom had become a proverb. " As 
honest as Joe Natterstrom," was in everybody's mouth ; 
but he could find no one who could give him any account 
of Joe Natterstrom. All agreed that no man in New York 



48 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. • 

was better known than Joe Natterstrom, yet no one of 
whom Beg inquired could identify him or tell where he 
resided. " Pray, sir," said Beg to a merchant on the Ex- 
change, " can you point out to me Joseph Natterstrom ? " 
" No," said he, " I cannot, but his name and reputation are 
perfectly familiar to me ; ask almost any man and he will 
tell you where he is to be seen." To the same question 
another replied, " I have often heard of honest Joe Natter- 
strom : he must be known to almost everybody ; but for 
my part, I do not recollect ever to have seen him. Ask that 
gentleman across the way, in a drab coat ; he knows every- 
body." Beg then accosted the gentleman with the drab 
coat. "Pray, sir, can you point me to Joseph Natterstrom?" 
" Honest Joe Natterstrom, do you mean ? " " Yes, sir," 
said Beg, " honest Joe Natterstrom." " Oh, yes, I know 
Natterstrom," said the gentleman in drab ; " everybody 
knows Natterstrom. There is no man in New York better 
known than Natterstrom." " Sir," said Beg, " can you 
describe him to me ? " "I would have affirmed a minute 
ago," said the gentleman in drab, " that I well knew honest 
Joe Natterstrom, but I must confess I cannot describe him 
to you, and do not distinctly recollect that I ever saw 
him ; but almost everybody knows Natterstrom." Beg was 
astonished. " Here," said he, " is a man honest to a 
proverb, and no one knows him. Honest men must be 
very plenty in New York." 

Beg now thought Natterstrom must be known at some 
of the banks ; and he inquired at the City Bank if Joseph 
Natterstrom ever transacted business there. " Do you 
mean honest Joe Natterstrom?" said the cashier. "Yes," 
said Beg. " No," replied the cashier, " but we would be 
happy to accommodate Mr. Natterstrom if he wants a loan." 
The cashier of the Manhattan Bank said he had paid many 
a cheque drawn in favor of Joseph Natterstrom, but did not 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 49 

recollect ever to have seen Natterstrom ; nor did he know 
at what bank he negotiated his business, but said, " Joseph 
Natterstrom can have any accommodation at this bank." 
In short, Natterstrom was known by reputation at every 
bank in the city, and it seems, could have commanded their 
funds, but none of the officers knew him. 

The next Sunday, Beg was certain he had obtained a 
clew to the person of Natterstrom. The clergyman on 
whose preaching Beg attended (for though a Mussulman, 
Beg believed a full third of what he heard), spoke of 
Natterstrom as a man of such integrity that his name 
had become synonymous with honesty. But to Beg's sur- 
prise, the next day the preacher told him he did not know 
the man, nor where he resided, but supposed he was the 
most familiarly known man in New York ; for he had 
often heard the children in the streets mention " honest 
Joe Natterstrom." Beg, now in despair of ever finding 
Natterstrom, began to suppose he was an imaginary 
being ; and as there was not an honest real man in New 
York, the people had conjured up a phantom and given 
it the name of Joe Natterstrom. Yet this was not the 
fact ; for a few days after, as Beg was walking through 
Pearl Street, he saw two men in conversation, and heard 
one of them say, " There goes Joe Natterstrom ; let it be 
settled by honest Joe Natterstrom." 

Beg now followed Natterstrom in order to obtain a 
knowledge of his person. " Allah ! " said Beg, after he 
had obtained a distinct view, " he has the mark of the 
Prophet ; he would not be ashamed to look the Sultan in 
the face ! " The next day Beg, with studied secrecy, — 
Hamet himself ignorant of it, — disguised himself like an 
old man tottering on the brink of the grave. He painted 
his face more cadaverous than the natural look of death ; 
then, taking a bag of gold in his hand, he sought an 

4 



50 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

opportunity about twilight, when Natterstrom was just 
leaving his counting-room, and slowly opening the door, 
he reached the bag, with an apparently feeble arm and 
trembling hand, to Natterstrom, and said only, " Occupy 
till Ebn Beg comes," disappearing in a moment, leaving 
Natterstrom in reasonable doubt whether the occurrence 
was natural or supernatural. Ilowever, he immediately 
untied the bag, and to his astonishment, counted five 
hundred English guineas. 

Natterstrom stood some time in a revcry, many unutter- 
able things probably passing in his mind. lie then reached 
his ledger, and entered therein, " October 21st, 1794, re- 
ceived of Mr. Eben Beck five hundred guineas to be 
used for his benefit." Beg and Hamet, the next week, 
left the United States, and returned by the way of Liver- 
pool to Smyrna, where Beg established himself as a 
merchant. 

The next morning Natterstrom opened a new account 
and [ilaced the money to the credit of Ebcnczer Beck, con- 
sidering himself merely as the agent of Beck. From that 
day Natterstrom kept Beck's concerns and his own entirely 
distinct ; and from that day Natterstrom was esteemed the 
most fortunate man in the world, although Natterstrom pro- 
nounced himself the most unfortunate. The money of Beg 
all prospered. It was like a snow-ball in a damp day roll- 
ing down the White Mountains. It doubled and trebled 
itself like an assemblage of clouds driven by contrary 
winds, while Natterstrom's own property was dissipated 
like a mist in summer. He seldom saw his own money but 
once ; the winds, the waves, and the rocks in the sea, all 
conspired against Natterstrom. The same tempest which 
wrecked Natterstrom's ship on the rock Rodondo, drove 
Beg's into a famished port in the West Indies, where they 
weighed silver against flour. The commissions on Beg's 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 51 

adventure retrieved Natterstrom's late loss and gave him 
the command of a great sum as the agent of Beg. 

Natterstrom was among the first to embark in trade to 
the Levant. The situation of the commercial world was 
most inviting to the commerce of the United States. All 
the world was a new milch cow to the merchant. While 
all Europe was fighting for this cow, and one nation was 
seizing her by the horns, another by the tail, a third by 
her fore-leg, and a fourth by her hind-leg, the merchant 
of the United States was sitting beside her, milking as 
quietly as a milkmaid. Natterstrom freighted two ships, 
one on his own, the other on Beck's account, and sent 
them to Smyrna. Captain Dixon commanded Beck's and 
Captain Hathaway, Natterstrom's ship. On their arrival 
in the roadstead of Smyrna, they hoisted the flag of the 
United States, which excited no little curiosity on shore, 
for very few of the Smyrniots had ever seen our national 
colors. It soon came to Beg's ears that two ships from 
the New World, heavily laden, were at anchor in the offing. 
He was immediately on board the nearest, which proved 
to be Captain Hathaway's ; and learning they were both 
from New York, he was greatly delighted. Beg was in- 
vited into the cabin, and, at his request, was shown an 
invoice of the cargo. When he had read it, he cast it on 
the table, and said, " I pity the owner ; every article is a 
drug here, and would better suit the New York market." 
" That is Natterstrom's ill-luck," said Captain Hathaway : 
" if he had shipped gold, it would have transmuted itself 
into brass ; if he held in his hands the rain of heaven, it 
would descend in mildew. Whatever he touches with his 
own hand, he poisons ; but whatever he touches with 
Beck's hand, he converts to gold. I dare say Beck's cargo 
will turn to. good account." "Natterstrom," said Beg, 
"Natterstrom, what Natterstrom? I was once in New 



52 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

York, and knew a Mr. Natterstrom ; they called him 
' honest Joe Natterstrom.' " " The same, the same," said 
Captain Hathaway ; " who could have imagined that Joe 
Natterstrom was known to a merchant of Smyrna I He is 
the owner of this unhappy cargo, which is his whole prop- 
erty." " And whose is the other ship and cargo ? " said 
Beg. " That," said Captain Hathaway, " is more than any 
living mnn knows. Natterstrom himself is ignorant of the 
owner. He says he is the agent of one Ebenezer Beck, 
and as no one doubts what Natterstrom says, the property 
is all taxed to Ebenezer Beck. This Beck owns a large 
real and personal estate, particularly a valuable wharf, in 
New York ; and as nobody knows M'ho Beck is, and as 
the estate has thus strangely slipped away from the lawful 
owner, the public have called it Beckman's Slip. Heaven 
grant that this same Beck do not ultimately prove the 
ruin of poor Natterstrom." " It may be so," said Beg ; 
" a man may be wise for another, and a fool for himself. 
Let us now go on board Beck's ship, and examine his 
cargo." " That is needless," said Captain Hathaway ; 
" here is an invoice of Bock's cargo." Beg examined it, 
and exclaimed, " Admirable ! It is worth half Smyrna. 
This Beck is a lucky fellow ; he was born under tlie sun ; 
his lamp will never go out. He must be a favorite of the 
Prophet, and was nursed under a tree that sheds its fruit, 
when ripe, into his lap." Beg then went on board of the 
other ship, and to his surprise and great joy, beheld his 
old friend Captain Dixon. After an oriental salutation. 
Beg mentioned his interview with Captain Hathaway, and 
lamented the unhappy voyage of Natterstrom. " And 
who," said Beg, " may be the fortunate owner of your 
cargo?" "That," said Captain Dixon, "is a mystery, 
deep as the hidden springs of your deserts. If honest Joe 
Natterstrom speaks truth, the fountain is still sealed. He 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 53 

is an agent of an unknown being. Natterstrom, though 
he is obliged to live and appear like a pacha, asserts 
that he is a poor man, only the agent of Beck, and de- 
pendent on his commissions. He affirms that all the 
property in his hands is one Eben Beck's ; and when ques- 
tioned who Beck may be, he says he does n't know, he never 
saw him but once, then in the twilight, and that, several 
years since." " But," said Beg, " is there any doubt that 
Natterstrom would surrender this property to the man 
Beck, if he should go and demand it ? " " That, indeed, 
remains to be proved," said Captain Dixon, " and will for- 
ever remain a doubt ; for there is no probability that Beck 
will ever appear. Many believe that Natterstrom, from 
some strange whim or dubious motive, has fabricated the 
whole story of this Eben Beck." " It may, nevertheless, all 
be true," said Beg ; " and Natterstrom may be the honest 
agent of Eben Beck. He is no friend to virtue who doubts 
its existence. The case may be as Natterstrom affirms; 
therefore it 's wrong to prejudge. To attribute a bad motive 
to a good action is to sow tares among wheat. Is it so 
very extraordinary that a man should be honest ? Our 
Prophet could summon thousands of the faithful, whose 
least merit would be their integrity. To return a pledge, 
to keep sacred a deposit, to do equity where the law would 
not compel you, in the estimation of the Prophet are all 
natural ; little better than instinct. I fear you wrong 
Natterstrom in doubting his integrity. Mere honesty is 
only a silent virtue. Your Prophet and ours have, each 
of them, many humble followers, who are like the potato 
of your country, which never raises its head above the 
surface. Yet the potato is worth the whole tribe of flowers 
that sport in the breeze. The English, who trade to the 
Red Sea, trust whole cargoes to our people, who carry 
them to the heart of Asia ; and all the security they 



54 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

demand is a token, a crook of a Mussulman's finger. If 
Natterstrom has proclaimed himself the steward of an- 
other man, has he not pledged himself to a surrender when 
that man appears and reclaims his own ? " 

" I wish Eben Beck was in the Red Sea," said Captain 
Dixon ; " for it is evident, whether a real being or a phan- 
tom, he is the evil genius of honest Joe Natterstrom." 

" But now to business," said Beg. " Give me the re- 
fusal of your cargo, and I will freight both vessels back 
with such products as you may order." 

This accomjdishcd, both ships returned to New York, 
heavily laden with the richest products of the East. 

When it appeared to Natterstrom that Beck's ship had 
made a prosperous voyage, and that his own enterprise 
had failed, Natterstrom was disheartened ; all his thoughts 
turned, inwardly, to one dark idea. Strange things passed 
in his mind. He remembered the pale look of the person, 
the feeble arm and trembling hand, that reached to him 
the bag of gold. The apparent old age and the decrepitude 
of the man now fixed his attention more strangely than 
in the moment of reality. The man of 1794 seemed to 
reappear to Natterstrom in full life ; and an imjjression 
that he might be the passive agent of an unholy princi- 
pal overpowered him. He began to hate his own name, 
without being reconciled to that of Beck. However, the 
course of events and the facility of business all tended to 
sink the name of Natterstrom into that of Beck ; so that 
Natterstrom was frequently addressed as Ebenezer Beck 
by foreign merchants, who really supposed they were 
merchandising with Beck himself. Indeed, he began to 
be called in New York, Ebenezer Beck ; so that at length 
he willingly assumed the name. He therefore relinquished 
all business in the name of Natterstrom, took down his 
sign on his warehouse, and substituted in ])lace thereof 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTEOM. 55 

that of Ebenezer Beck. Thus, honest Joe Natterstrom 
sank into Ebenezer Beck ; and many of the present gen- 
eration, who suppose they have seen Ebenezer Beck a 
thousand times, never heard of the name of Joseph Nat- 
terstrom, So hasty is time to bury the past ; so closely 
does oblivion press on the footsteps of time. 

Under the name of Ebenezer Beck, Natterstrom long 
flourished, one of the most eminent merchants of New 
York. Although he employed thousands of men, and 
came in contact with the whole mass of civil society, 
no man was ever heard to complain of him ; he was 
the counterpart of the late Mr. Gray of Boston. 

After many successful voyages to Smyrna, Beck ex- 
claimed one day in the hearing of Captain Dixon, " Lord, 
remember poor Joseph Natterstrom ; but as for Ebenezer 
Beck, stay thy hand, for he has enough ! " This being 
related to Beg the last time Captain Dixon was at Smyrna, 
" Enough ! " said Beg, " he is the first man that ever 
cried enough ! " 

" But," said Captain Dixon, " if the wealth is not his 
own, but one Ebenezer Beck's, he exclaimed ' Enough ' for 
another man, not for himself." 

" True," said Beg, " it is so ; yet it seems to confirm his 
integrity, if he did not apply the expression to himself." 

Beg now thought it time to see Natterstrom, and he 
prepared to visit the United States. Accordingly, he em- 
barked a second time with Captain Dixon for New York. 
On his arrival, he pondered a long time how he should 
make himself known to Natterstrom. At length, he re- 
solved to appear before him in the same disgiJise in which 
he appeared at his counting-room in 1794, thirty years 
before. He now prepared himself for a meeting ; and 
having ascertained that Natterstrom and his family were 
going to a country-seat at Flushing, he placed himself 



56 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 

in the way, and sat down near the middle of the road, 
near the Dutch church. With one hand he supported 
himself with a staff ; and the other was half extended, 
as if in dubious expectation of charity. When the horses 
of Natterstrom's carriage approached Beg, they suddenly 
stopped and trembled, as if spell-bound. The coachman 
turned to Natterstrom and said, " Here, sir, is a miser- 
able object, so unhuman that the horses tremble at sight 
of him." 

" Eternal God ! " said Natterstrom, " that is Eben Beck ! 
The day of doubt is passed, and if that is a human 
being, I am hai)py ; otherwise, I have been thirty years 
under enchantment." In an instant, Natterstrom leaped 
from the carriage and approached Beg. " Thou art Eben 
Beck," said Natterstrom. " Dost thou appear to me a 
miserable beggar, or a mysterious being, unallied to this 
world, and all its concerns ? Speak, for I am Joseph Nat- 
terstrom, and have 'occupied' till Eben Beck has come." 

" How hast thou ' occupied ' ? " said Beg, austerely. 

" I have ' occupied,' " said Natterstrom, " until thy five 
hundred guineas have become more than five hundred 
thousand. Arise, and take a seat in this, thy carriage, 
for it is thine, — see thy name on the panel, — and let me 
accompany thee to thy beautiful mansion at Becksville." 

Beg ascended the carriage, seated himself, sat calmly, 
and said nothing. Natterstrom, though full, even to 
anguish, was silence-struck at this strange occurrence ; 
and thus all was quiet until they arrived at Beck's 
country-scat. Natterstrom now proposed a change of 
raiment, which Beg declined, observing he was too old 
to change his habits ; he had come a long distance to 
settle his affairs, and was desirous of returning home 
to his own country. " When canst thou settle with me ? " 
asked Beg. 



THE LATE JOSEPH NATTERSTROM. 57 

" To-day," replied Natterstrom. 

" But how canst thou settle the concerns of thirty 
years in one day ? " 

" I have only," said Natterstrom, " to hand thee a 
bundle of papers, and the business is done." 

" Explain thyself, Mr. Natterstrom, for I am an ignorant 
man." 

" All thy property is in thy own name ; thy real estate 
is registered, thy ships are registered, thy notes of hand, 
thy bonds and mortgages, are all payable to thyself ; thy 
bank stock is all certified to Eben Beck ; and all thy 
other personal property is in thy day-book and ledger. 
Otherwise, how could Eben Beck receive his own, if Joseph 
Natterstrom had died before Eben Beck came back ? " 

" But how canst thou distinguish between thy own 
and my own ? Joseph Natterstrom has not become poor 
while Eben Beck has become rich ? " 

" Joseph Natterstrom has become poor, and has lived 
many years under the shadow of Eben Beck, and has 
rejoiced in the sunshine of his prosperity ; for to rejoice 
in the prosperity of another is to partake of it. But 
now, all is Eben Beck's ; if Joseph Natterstrom retains 
anything, he wrongs Eben Beck." 

" And art thou ready to resign all ? " 

" All." 

" And what wilt thou have left ? " 

" Myself." 

" True," said Beg, " Joseph Natterstrom will remain, 
and a man's best wealth ought to be himself." 

The next day, Natterstrom resigned all, and Beg took 
all. In one day, everything was settled. From great 
splendor and apparent opulence, Joseph Natterstrom was 
reduced to nothing. From that day Beg never saw Nat- 
terstrom, though he remained in New York about six 



58 THE LATE JOSEPH NATTEESTEOM. 

months. He continued his disguise, lived meanly, and 
encouraged the opinion that he was a mysterious miser. 
The experiment on Natterstrom having succeeded to Bcg's 
satisfaction, he was now desirous of returning home to 
Smyrna ; but first he executed his "Will, which for brevity 
was remarkable. Thus : " There is but one God, and 
Mahomet is his Prophet. I, Ebn Beg, of Smyrna, known 
in the city of New York as Eben Beck, being of sound 
and disposing mind and memory, do make this my last 
will and testament. First, I devise to Joseph Natterstrom, 
my late agent, and to his heirs and assigns, all my real 
estate in the United States. Secondly, I give and be- 
queath to said Natterstrom, all my personal property, 
both in Europe and in the United States." This will, 
correctly executed, Beg deposited with Captain Dixon, 
who now for the first time was made acquainted with 
the long-sleeping secret. By the aid of Captain Dixon, 
Beg now appeared to sicken, languish, and die. His 
funeral was performed, and his decease Avas publicly no- 
ticed, very little to his credit. The good-natured Beg 
smiled at this, and soon after sailed for Smyrna. 

Captain Dixon now presented the will to Natterstrom ; 
he read it, and for a moment his well-balanced mind 
began to totter. He was now deeply impressed, that for 
thirty years he had been under a supernatural influence, 
but as it appeared to him to be that kind of influence 
which one good spirit might have over another, he re- 
tained 'the name of Eben Beck to the day of his death, 
as well from pleasant associations as from public sanction ; 
but his real name was Joseph Natterstrom, as is well 
known to many aged people now living in New York. 



MARTHA GAEDNER; 

OR, MORAL REACTION. 



MARTHA GARDNER; 
OR, MOEAL EEACTION. 



SIR FRANCIS WILLOUGHBY attempted the first set- 
tlement in Charlestown on the land adjoining the old 
ferry. Afterward Martha Gardner became heir to a part 
of the same estate. What inhabitant of that region, who 
has passed the meridian of life, cannot remember Martha 
Gardner ? What man or woman of sixty has not bought 
sweetmeats, nuts, and apples at the shop of Martha Gard- 
ner at her little mansion measuring ten feet by twelve, 
which during her life was a frontier cottage between 
Boston and Charlestown, on the Charlestown shore near 
the old ferry-way ? Those who remember Martha, and 
recollect how silent, modest, industrious, and unassuming 
she was, will think it impossible that anything interesting 
can grow out of her history ; yet one incident in her long 
life merits solemn reflection. It may appear to many an 
idle legend, yet it is not so ; for the footsteps of time 
have already left an indelible track, and Martha Gardner, 
although long since in her grave, still speaks trumpet- 
tongued from her venerable ashes. 

Previous to the American Revolution Martha Gardner 
lived in Charlestown. Her family name was Bunker, 
whence came the name Bunker Hill. On the seventeenth 
day of June she saw her little mansion given to the flames, 
and herself houseless, destitute, and an exile from her 



62 MARTHA GAKDNER; 

Eden. After the war she returned and erected her small 
cottage on the border of the beautiful river ; and there she 
lived, and there in 1809 she died. 

In 1785 Charles River Bridge, the greatest enterprise of 
that day, was erected near the door of Martha Gardner, on 
the Charlestown shore. The wealthy proprietors soon be- 
gan to fancy that a valuable part of the estate of Martha 
Gardner was their corporate property ; and Martha was 
compelled either to resign her title, or engage in a lawsuit 
with the richest corporation in New England. Her dis- 
tress may be imagined, — a poor widow, recently flying 
from the flames of her dwelling, hardly reinstated in the 
common comforts of life, already bending with age, and 
now forced to contend with powerful claimants for a part 
of the small estate of which, unluckily, all the deeds and 
documents were (as she supposed) burned during the gen- 
eral conflagration of Charlestown. 

A lawsuit has different aspects to different persons. To 
some a lawsuit is a holiday ; to others it gives the heart- 
ache. To some the agitation of a lawsuit is but the lullaby 
of a sea breeze ; so the French officer thought, who, dur- 
ing a tedious peace, contrived to be involved in a hundred 
lawsuits. When he was summoned before Louis XV. as 
a public nuisance, the king ordered him to drop them all ; 
but he, falling on his knees, entreated that he might retain 
half a dozen of them for his diversion, otherwise he should 
die with languor during the long peace. Not so Lord 
Chancellor Eldon. When his steward complained to him 
of a trespasser, he asked if the man had stolen an acre 
of land. " Why, no, sir." « Then wait till he does." Nor 
did Erskine see any amusement in a lawsuit. Ellenbor- 
ough once suggested to him that his client could have a 
better remedy in the Court of Chancery. At the name of 
the Court of Chancery, Erskine, wiping away a tear, and 



OK, MORAL REACTION. 63 

looking the Chief-Justice in the face, said, in a supplicat- 
ing tone : " Has your Lordship the heart to send a fellow- 
being to the Court of Chancery ? " 

But let us pause a moment to contemplate Martha Gard- 
ner. How much do these two words " Martha Gardner " 
comprise ! More than the whole Trojan war ! Homer 
could have turned Martha Gardner into an epic poem, for 
she and moral reaction are one. Moral reaction, — what a 
subject for contemplation ! The anger of Achilles, the 
wanderings of that cunning itinerant Ulysses, the flight 
from Troy, our lagging sympathy with J]]neas, and the 
fertile squabble of the Crusaders and the Turks for a 
few square feet of earth, are mere incidents compared 
with the eternal decrees of moral reaction. Coleridge and 
Kant, transcendental philosophers ! — ye could discourse 
sublimely on moral reaction forever and ever ; for every 
action, past, present, or future, would afford food to your 
telescopic minds. Every intelligent being and nation, as 
well as individual, is at this moment suffering under moral 
reaction. The earthquake is but a momentary shock, the 
thunder dies in its birth, the volcano is but a palpitation ; 
but moral reaction though silent, unseen, and unheard, is 
the most busy agent in the universe. While it requires 
ages for the ocean to effect a little inroad on the sea-beach, 
moral reaction at one time overwhelms individuals and 
nations at a blow, at another it leads them through a laby- 
rinth to slow but sure destruction, — a giant, but without 
the arms of a giant ; Time with his scythe, but you see not 
the scythe. The prophetic imprecation of Martha Gardner 
Vhich we are about to relate, was but a woman's voice 
sighing in the tempest and dying away among the billows ; 
but it was a voice charged with an awful decree. 

The story of Martha Gardner, although having its scene 
under our own eyes, and the principal fact a matter of pub- 



64 MARTHA GARDNER; 

lie record, is so mucli like a legendary tale that it is impossi- 
ble to treat the subject without a tinge of the marvellous. 

Soon after the great Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
began the conflict with Marti la Gardner for a part of 
her little patrimony, — the dock adjoining the bridge, — 
Martha one morning sat in her chair, her hands folded, 
looking more like a figure of stone than a living being, 
when in came David "Wood (the late Colonel Wood), one 
of those rare men, whom as soon as the eyes saw, the lips 
whispered, '• There goes a man." His noble heart you 
might read in his face and see in his hand ; in his deal- 
ings he was so just that his word was as good as a promis- 
sory note, and passed like a bill of exchange from man 
to man. His looks created immediate confidence ; a lost 
dog might always be found at David Wood's door-step. 
Indeed, this man seemed to live exempt from tlie general 
penalty, and never appeared to realize that all others were 
not like himself. 

" What 's the matter, Martha ; what 's the matter ? You 
look worse than you did when you fled from the ' seven- 
teentli of June.' " Martha at first made no reply, for she 
did not see him. " Are you in a trance, Martlia ? Wake 
up, and tell me what the trouble is." 

Martha seemed to awake from a deep revery, and re- 
plied, " Ah, ^Ir. Wood, the burning of Charlestown, with 
my little all, was but a momentary conflict, — it was but a 
dream of the night. What comes without anticipation, and 
ends in a moment, passes over us like a dream. That 
morning found me happy, and the next morning found me 
so. The seventeenth had passed over me forever, and the 
morning of the eighteenth gave me new joy. Why could 
they not wait a little longer, and I should have been at 
rest ? But now I see no end to my sorrows. When I lay 
my head on my pillow, the Corporation appears to me in 



OR, MORAL REACTION. 65 

all its terrors ; when I sleep — no, I do not sleep — when 
I dream, I dream of the Corporation ; and when I wake, 
there stands the great Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
against Martha Gardner, — they, seemingly almighty, and 
I, nothing. Why did you waken me ? " 

" Cheer up, Martha," said the benevolent Mr. Wood, 
" your happy star shall yet prevail. Why, have you for- 
gotten your old wooden post with Ebenezer Mansir's name 
carved on it, — the old wooden post which the selectmen of 
Charlestown, in their wrath, ordered to be cut away, and 
which, after traversing the whole world of waters, floated 
back after two years to your own door, and was replaced 
in its own post-hole ? Arise, look out of your window and 
see the old wooden pier, and then doubt, if you can, of 
eternal justice. Ebenezer — look at it; it means, ' Praise 
the Lord ! ' " 

" Ah," said Martha, " the day of miracles is not yet 
passed. That old wooden pier has given birth to strange 
reflections, its return seemed to cojinect heaven and earth ; 
it seemed like the return of a wandering spirit, cast out of 
its native element, to its first happy state." 

" Yes," said Mr. Wood ; " think of that post with the 
name carved on it to identify it, floating on the mighty 
waters, — now in the Gulf Stream, now driven up the 
Baltic, then by a north wind sent to the Equator and 
Pacific, and thence back to the Atlantic, — and after such 
a voyage of adventure, arriving at Charlestown in its 
own dock again I " 

" Yes," said Martha, " I have heard it observed that 
many ages past a man by the name of Plato, being in 
the dark, guessed a great deal about the immortality of 
the soul. I have often imagined that the return of the 
wooden post was like a lost angel to his native home ; and 
if that old post, subject two years to the winds of heaven 

5 



6{^ MARTHA GARDNER; 

and waves of the sea, tossed upon all the coasts, inlets, 
bays, creeks, and nooks of the four quarters of the world, 
came home at last, a wandering spirit might one day reach 
its native home ! " 

The wooden pier just mentioned was well calculated to 
bewilder the least superstitious mind. The simple facts 
were these : Soon after the erection of Charles River 
Bridge, the selectmen of Charlestown believed a portion of 
Martha Gardner's estate was the town dock, and they 
ordered a favorite wooden post standing at the dock to be 
cut away. The post stood under her chamber window, and 
from her youth upward she was attached to that post as 
much as Pope was attached to the classic post before his 
door. Ebenezer Mansir tied his fishing-boat to that post, 
and Martha when a child played in the boat ; and when it 
floated on an ebb-tide down the dock the length of its 
tether, she pulled herself up the dock by the help of the 
rope. That was a pure pleasure never to be forgotten. 

Martha remonstrated against the wrong done her, with 
all a woman's eloquence, but in vain ; and as the post was 
floating out into Charles River, a by-stander said, " Farewell 
to your old post, Mrs. Gardner, you will never see it again." 
She instantly replied, " Who knows but that post may one 
day come back again, to convince the selectmen of my 
right and their wrong?" Nothing more was thought of 
this until two years after, when the old post, covered with 
caraghccn-moss and barnacles, came floating up the dock at 
midday, shining like an emerald ; and as the tide receded, 
deposited itself beside its old situation. This incident is 
now in the family records. 

" But,"' said Mr. Wood, " when will the trial begin ? " 

" Next week," said Martha ; " and my heart fails within 
me, for I have nothing to show ; all my deeds were de- 
stroyed on the seventeenth of June." 



OR, MORAL REACTION. 67 

" Ah, Martha, you seem now like a lamb shorn in winter ; 
but I have a presentiment that there is an angel behind the 
curtain. When human help fails us, an armed giant some- 
times appears in our defence. A benighted traveller has 
often been shown his true path by a flash of lightning. 
You may yet awake out of a dream." 

Early the next morning Mr. Wood received a message. 
His mansion stood half a mile from Martha Gardner's 
cottage, where the brick church now stands at the corner 
of Wood and Green Streets. On entering Martha's cot- 
tage, he found her greatly agitated. Said Martha, " Your 
angel behind the curtain made his appearance last night. 
He knocked at my door once; I was afraid. He knocked" 
at my door again ; I was afraid and said nothing. He 
knocked at my door the third time, and said, ' Awake, 
Martha, awake, and fear no harm ! ' I took courage and 
replied, ' I am awake, but am overcome with fear ; for I 
am alone, and there is none to help me.' ' Fear nothing, 
Martha, I am here to help you. Listen. In the house of 
your son-in-law, in an old trunk at the bottom of the old 
trunk in the garret, behind the chimney, there all your 
deeds and records are preserved.' " 

Search was immediately made, and in an old trunk at 
the bottom of the old trunk in the garret, behind the 
chimney. Sir Francis Willoughby's original deed to Martha 
Gardner's ancestor was quietly reposing in perfect pres- 
ervation. This was handed to the late Governor Sullivan, 
then attorney-general, the faithful counsellor of the lone 
widow. She prevailed in the Supreme Court, and was 
quieted in her rights. 

This incident of " the angel behind the curtain," deserves 
a passing remark. There was nothing strange in Martha 
Gardner's dreaming every night of her lawsuit, of the 
great Corporation, and of her lost deeds ; neither is it 



68 MAETHA GARDNER; 

strange that she should dream of finding them. And if we 
connect the sanguine expressions of her friend Wood with 
her own earnest wishes, we have the key to her dream. 
There is no probability that she heard a knocking at 
her chamber door, either once, twice, or thrice ; but she 
dreamed she did so, and in the morning she doubtless 
thought it was more than a dream. She had probably 
seen that old trunk many times, little imagining the jewel 
it contained. There is really nothing marvellous in this 
dream, and I do not wish it to be so considered ; for though 
it was far more important to her than the return of the 
old wooden post, yet tliis dream is not wortliy of a passing 
notice compared with the adventures of that almost in- 
tellectual wooden post. 

But Martha Gardner was not destined to a long repose. 
One pleasant morning soon after, looking out of her win- 
dow, she observed the sea-gulls sporting themselves above 
the bridge. " This is a deceitful calm," said Martha. 
" These sea-gulls so near my door denote an approaching 
storm ; " and immediately after the great Corporation 
appeared to Martha in tlie shape of a summons, com- 
manding her to appear at court and submit to a new trial 
in the form of a review. Said Martha, " How cruel ! This 
may be sport to tlicm, but it is death to me. I have but 
a short lease of all worldly things ; my setting sun shows 
only a crescent, it will be down in a moment. Let the 
great Corporation take my estate. I will contend no 
longer. If they have resolved to contend again, let them 
take my estate this moment rather tlian that I should close 
my few remaining days in anxiety and distress. I have 
already been overwhelmed in the waters of bitterness. 
Truly my name is Martha." " Not so," said her friends. 
" Remember the wooden post with Ebenezer Mansir's name 
carved on it. Remember the ' ansrel behind the curtain,' 



OR, MORAL REACTION. 69 

and remember the old trunk. Do not let the great Cor- 
poration with their long arms reach beyond your simple 
rights. The whole Corporation in the eye of the court 
weighs no more than Martha Gardner." 

In consequence of this assurance, Martha maintained 
the conflict a second time with the Corporation, and pre- 
vailed. Slie now congratulated herself that she should die 
in peace ; and she resigned herself to that sweet repose, 
such as virtuous old age, when light-hearted, enjoys under 
the shadow of a weight of years. In old age most persons 
cling the closer to earth the nearer they approach the 
close of life. Not so Martha ; her setting sun seemed 
to renew her youth. She was as merry as a cricket in 
autumn, which sings loudest on the last day of sunshine. 
She was at peace with herself, and therefore with all the 
world. The swallows observed this, and built their nests 
over her window, and twittered on her window-sill. Her 
day never seemed too long. She renewed her girlhood 
with the foliage of spring, while the wreath of snow over 
the river on Copp's Hill, reminded her of a gay plume 
rather than of her winding-sheet. All her wrinkles fled 
before the sparkling of her eyes. Life returned to her, 
and in her old age she was still young. Doubtless a 
joyous old age with a heart alive to youthful sensations 
is nearly allied to spiritual existence ; in truth, her mor- 
tality seemed swallowed up in life. " Happy Mrs. Gard- 
ner," said the neighbors ; " there is nothing mortal about 
her, she will never die. She will sit upright in her easy- 
chair and seem to die ; but no, Martha has only been 
translated." Hesiod must have had such a one as Martha 
Gardner in view when speaking of the first happy ages : — 

" They die, or rather seem to die; they seem 
From hence transported in a pleasing dream." 

Indeed Martha Gardner appeared to have gone to heaven 



70 MARTHA GARDNER; 

before her time, and to have enjoyed in this "world an 
athanasia. But the evening breeze which was so sweetly 
wafting her down the quiet stream of time to the calm 
latitudes, was only the precursor of a tempest which over- 
whelmed her gentle soul. Just before she took leave of 
this world, the moment she was folding all up for her last 
journey, just when with her own hands, she had worked 
her last white dress and instructed her granddaughter how 
to adjust it, the great Corporation sent a third summons 
to her, more appalling than would have been her last 
summons. This blow was too much for Martha, and she 
became a weeping-willow. Again the great Corporation op- 
pressed her sleep ; her day-fears pursued her to her couch, 
where in her phantom sleep she wrestled with the night- 
mare in the shape of the great Corporation. Trouble in 
youth is like the morning dew, — the first gleam of the sun 
dissipates it ; but trouble in old age weighs heavier and 
heavier, and the heart sinks, and drags hope downward. 

But why did the Corporation of Charles River Bridge 
thus }>ursue Martha Gardner ? There is but one answer, 
— it was a Corporation. 

The metaphysicians distribute man into three parts, — 
the animal, the intellectual, and the moral. Which of 
these three is most likely to prevail in a Corporation ? The 
Corporation of Charles River Bridge was composed of 
many men well remembered now for their private and 
public worth. Less than five of them would have re- 
deemed Nineveh. But unhappily the animal and the in- 
tellectual part of Corporations generally govern the body, 
and conscience is a non-corporate word. 

While Martha was preparing for her last conflict with 
the Corporation a great storm in November threatened 
wide desolation to the neighboring shores of Boston and 
Charlestown. A three days' northeast wind, assisted by 



OR, MORAL REACTION. 71 

the full moon, seemed to challenge the Gulf Stream. It is 
well known that a powerful northeast wind narrows the 
Gulf Stream, renders it more rapid, and drives it nearer 
the coast. The third day of this memorable storm af- 
forded the subliracst scene ever beheld in New England. 
It seemed for a fearful moment that the order of Nature 
was broken up, and that He who gave the sea its bounds 
had released the conditions ; that the whole Atlantic, in a 
boisterous mood, had forced the Gulf Stream into Boston 
harbor. There was not a wave to be seen ; it was one 
white surge, — one white mountain of foam breaking over 
the tops of the numerous islands in the harbor ; while 
during the momentary lulling of the wind and subsiding 
of the waters, the surges broke upon the eye like so many 
gambolling sea-monsters, dancing to the ceaseless roar of 
Chelsea and Lynn beaches. It seemed as though the 
mainland must give way to the mighty sea beating upon 
the rock-bound coast. It was a fearful day for Charles- 
town. The waters had already buried the wharves in 
their abyss. Charles River Bridge next disappeared and 
was totally engulfed ; vessels might have sailed over it 
keel-safe. The flood was marching up Main Street to the 
Square. Mothers seized their infants, and were preparing 
to fly to the uplands. Three days more and the heights 
of Boston and Charlestown would have appeared like 
islands in the Atlantic ocean ; but happily for Boston and 
the vicinity, this storm occurred in November and not in 
May, otherwise the numerous icebergs which annually ap- 
pear off the coast might have blockaded the harbor be- 
tween Cape Ann and Cape Cod, and destroyed Boston 
and the neighboring seaports. 

In the last efforts of the storm the little cottage of 
Martha Gardner began to tremble. The surge bore down 
on her tottering tenement, while the winds lashed every 



72 MAKTHA GARDNER; 

returning billow into new fury. The neighbors collected 
around her dwelling and besought her to fly from instant 
ruin. She, nothing daunted, ascended to her chamber win- 
dow, and opening it, addressed them : — 

" I will not fly," said she. " Let Lynn beach roar, and 
let the winds and the waves rage three days more. If my 
house moves it shall be my ark ; it shall be my cradle. I 
will move with it. I will neither fly from the storm nor 
look back, but will look up ! I have nothing to fear from 
the war of elements. My destruction comes not in the 
whirlwind nor in the tempest, but from a broken heart. 
Welcome, ye stormy winds and raging waves ! Ye are 
but ministers of Supreme Power, flying messengers ; and 
when your errand is done, ye are as quiet as a landscape. 
When the storm is passed all will smile again. Yc are 
now my diversion ; ye bring repose to my troubled spirit ; 
ye lull me to rest. When ye are quiet, the great Corpora- 
tion will trouble my sleep. All natural evils are but play- 
things. This tcmi)est shakes my dwelling, but not my 
soul. The thunder is harmless the moment it is heard. 
The earthquake brings impartial ruin ; but I, a poor widow, 
am singled out by the great Corporation, and pursued to 
my dying bed-chamber. Yes, my soul enjoys this tempest ; 
1 look down on it ; I am lifted above it. I had rather see 
this tempest with open eyes than the great Corporation in 
my sleep. 

" This storm gives me new courage, a new spirit, and 
raises me far above its idle rage. I am above the 
storm ; I am on the top of Jacob's ladder, and see the 
heavenly blue. This storm quiets my soul. It has caused, 
for a moment, Charles River Bridge to disappear. I am 
in a new element. I am at the gate of heaven, and hear 
a voice you cannot hear ; I hear a voice above the storm 
saving, ' Martha Gardner shall be avenged, but not in her 



OR, MORAL REACTION. 73 

day.' The time is coming when there shall be no more 
passing over that bridge than there is at this moment. It 
shall be desolate and forsaken, — a fishing-place. The 
curlew and gray gull and stormy petrel shall there rest in 
quiet. The traveller shall pass over another highway, and 
turning his head shall say, ' Behold the great highway of 
the north and of the east, — behold how desolate!' And 
it shall be desolate ; but neither storm nor tempest nor 
fire nor earthquake shall destroy it. It shall be • like a 
barren spot in a fertile valley. All around it shall flour- 
ish. The voice of prosperity shall echo and re-echo across 
the river from all the hills of Boston, even to the heights 
of Charlestown, and thence among the islands ; but that 
spot shall become a solitude, a barren streak in a green 
circle. The grass shall spring from the crevices, but it 
shall wither before the midday sun. No living thing shall 
pass over it, A lost child shall not be sought in that 
desolate path. The traveller shall shun it, and shall pass 
another way to the great city, and they of the great city 
shall shun it and pass another way ; and they of the great 
Corporation shall avoid it, turn from it, and pass another 
way. It shall disappear in all its glory as the great high- 
way of the north, and still remain visible as an everlast- 
ing monument. And the stranger shall come from the 
uttermost parts of the earth to behold the beautiful city ; 
and he shall ascend the mount of my fathers, and shall 
view the beautiful city, begirt with mountains of emerald ; 
and he shall behold the thousand villas which shall stud 
the lawns like diamonds, and the distant hills pouring 
down plenty, while the Atlantic, bearing on her bosom the 
harvest of the world, shall bow at her footstool. And the 
eyes of the stranger shall become weary in beholding new 
beauties, and his senses sleep from the fatigue of behold- 
ing the ever-varying prospect changing with every passing 



74 MAKTHA GARDNER. 

cloud, and he shall descend from the mount of my fathers 
and return to the beautiful city ; but when he shall cast 
his eye on this spot the charm shall dissolve. He shall 
stand amazed and demand, ' Why that solitude amid uni- 
versal life ? ' " 

Dimly seen through the spray, she now withdrew from 
the storm, and gently closed the window. All was silent ; 
for as she did not appear to address the spectators, no one 
knew how to reply to her. At length "William Goodwin, 
a man of ardent temperament and generous feelings, said, 
" Truly, that was Martha Gardner's countenance, I cannot 
be deceived ; for the flash of her eyes created, amid the 
storm, a rainbow around her head. But it was not — no, it 
was not Martha Gardner's voice. This means something ; 
here is a mystery. Some of us may live to see it unrav- 
elled ; but Martha Gardner never uttered all that." 

The storm immediately died away. The next morning 
was calm and fair. Martha Gardner soon after passed 
through her last conflict with the Corporation, and died. 

The world knows all the rest. The traveller who passes 
over Warren Bridge, and turns his eye over his shoulder 
and beholds the present desolation of Charles River Bridge, 
and sees the immense crowd passing over the new highway, 
if he hath any faith in moral reaction, will say, '•' In truth, 
Martha Gardner built Warren Bridge ; " and in other times 
it may be said, " As true as Martha Gardner built Warren 
Bridge." ^ 

1 The public are familiar with the suit lately decided in the United States 
Supreme Court of Errors, between the proprietors of Charles River and 
Warren Bridges. The decision was against the Charles River Bridge, and 
" the great Corporation " have vainly petitioned the Massachusetts Legisla- 
ture for a release from the conditions of their charter. Their bridge is seldom 
or never used, and must soon become impassable. The distant reader may 
ask, " "Why is this ? " The answer is, " Warren Bridge is free, so rendered by 
an act of the Legislature ; and few persons, not even the proprietors them- 
selves, choose to pay toll for the privilege of crossing Charles River Bridge." 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS: 
A VERMONT LEGEND. 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS; 
A VERMONT LEGEND. 



ON the border of Lake Champlain you will find a beau- 
tiful declivity in the present town of Ferrisburg, 
which commands a southerly view of the lake. In a calm 
summer morning you may look down on a sea of glass ; 
and sometimes in winter when a severe frost catches the 
lake asleep, you may behold a spacious mirror, polished 
beyond the highest skill of art. 

The following account of John Grindall, who many years 
since lived on this declivity, is still current in the neighbor- 
hood, although time has probably added not a little to the 
real facts. Grindall was something more than a strict 
economist, one whom the present extravagant age would 
pronounce a miser. To give and to lose had with him the 
same meaning ; so, to get and to keep. 

A poor traveller from the Genesee country, on his return 
from Canada, was overtaken in the month of November in 
the year 1780 (a memorable cold winter in New England), 
without a surtout. He tarried for a night at an inn in the 
neighborhood of Ferrisburg. His landlord taking pity on 
him, observed, " My neighbor Grindall has just bought him- 
self, after many years, a new cloak. Call on him to-morrow 
morning, and tell him I sent you, and hope he will give you 
his old cloak ; and, moreover, say to him, he will never be 



78 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

less warm for parting with it, as a deed of charity some- 
times warms the body more than a blanket." 

Accordingly the traveller called on Grindall and told his 
errand. The day was extremely cold, and of itself pleaded 
most eloquently for the old cloak 

" How easy," said Grindall, " is it for one man to be 
liberal of the property of another ! My neighbor is one of 
the most generous men in the world, for the simple reason 
that he has nothing to give." 

" You do him wrong, sir," said the traveller ; " he gave 
me a lodging and a breakfast; and, moreover, said you were 
the wealthiest man in these parts." 

" Ay," said Grindall, " I have grown rich by keeping, 
not by giving. If the weather grows much colder, I shall 
want not only my new cloak and my old one, but another." 

" So you will want two, or more, while I have to travel 
more than one hundred miles without any ! Your neighbor 
bade me tell you a deed of charity would warm one better 
than a blanket." 

" My old cloak will fit no one but myself." 

" Ah ! he that is warm thinks all others are so." 

" But you should be more provident, and not have to 
make the cloak when it begins to rain. However, you have 
one advantage : a threadbare coat is armor-proof against a 
highwayman." 

" And perhaps," said the traveller, " another advantage, 
' the greatest wealth is contentment with a little.' " 

" Yes," said Grindall, " many talk like philosophers and 
live like fools." 

" But sir, if you make money your god, it will plague you 
like the devil." 

" But he is not wise that is not wise for himself ; and he 
that would give to all, shows great good-will, but little 
wisdom." 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 79 

" Still, sir, you make a good investment when you relieve 
the necessitous." 

" All my income is applied to very different purposes." 

" Farewell, then. You may want more than two cloaks 
to keep you warm if I perish with the cold." 

The traveller departed. A few days afterward a rumor 
was prevalent that a traveller had perished on the west 
side of the lake. Grindall heard the report, and reflecting 
on the last words of the stranger, felt a sudden chillness 
shoot through his frame. There was nothing supernatu- 
ral in this ; the body is often the plaything of the mind. 
The imagination can produce a fever ; and why may it 
not turn the heart to an icicle, especially as it a,ppeared 
that Grindall's heart was sufficiently cold before ? The 
morning after this rumor he pronounced it the coldest day 
he had ever experienced ; and he sat in his old cloak the 
whole day, congratulating himself that he had not given 
it to the traveller. The next day seemed to Grindall more 
severe than the former ; and he put on both the old and 
the new cloak. Nevertheless he was far from comfortable. 
The third day he sent to his tailor for a new cloak ; but 
as the tailor could not make a cloak in a day, he borrowed 
one of his neighbor, the innkeeper. 

The weather that year, 1780, as is well known, waxed 
daily colder and colder, and Grindall was obliged to em- 
ploy all the tailors far and wide, for nothing could keep 
him warm, not even an additional cloak every day ; so that 
Grindall soon excited the curiosity of all around him. His 
appearance indeed must have been grotesque. His circum- 
ference was soon so great that he could not pass out of his 
door, yet nothing less than a new cloak daily could relieve 
him. He was extremely loath to send for a physician ; for 
having on one occasion been bled by a doctor, he was heard 
to declare that he never would part with any more of his 



80 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

blood, meaning thereby his money. However, Grindall was 
not without medical advice. Curiosity soon filled his 
house. All the old ladies far and near, Indian doctors 
and doctresses, offered him more remedies than can be 
found in the Materia Medica. Even the regular and irreg- 
ular faculty gave him a call gratis, hoping at least to learn 
something either in confirmation of preconceived opinion, 
or, what was more agreeable, from practical experiment on 
a new disease. While it cost nothing, Grindall was willing 
to listen and submit ; hence his house became a hospital, 
and himself the recipient of a thousand prescriptions. But 
all availed nothing ; he grew colder every day. Every new 
cloak was l)ut a wreath of snow. The doctors at length 
began to quarrel among themselves. In their various ex- 
periments they so often crossed one another's path, and 
administered such opposite remedies, that Grindall began 
to jeer them. The only perspiration he enjoyed for three 
months was caused by a fit of laughter at the doctors' 
expense. lie plainly told them, if one remedy would cure, 
another would as certainly kill. To this each physician 
readily assented, but at the same time asserted that his 
own remedy was the only cure. These opposite prescrip- 
tions soon embroiled all his doctors, both male and female ; 
at the same time there was a perplexing debate respecting 
the nature of the disease. While one pronounced the dis- 
order a weakness of the blood, another asserted it was an 
ossification of the heart, — a disorder incident to many old 
persons, and always accompanying an undue love of money. 
Another said the disorder arose from a defect of the blood 
in the heart, and the true remedy was to send the blood 
from the extremities to the heart. While the doctors were 
disputing, Grindall was growing colder and colder, and his 
circumference larger and larger, so that he nearly filled 
the largest room in his housCo 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 81 

Toward spring, when the sun began to assert himself, 
and when the snow began to moisten, an incident befell 
Grindall, which has become an interesting part of this 
memorandum. Grindall said he had been confined to the 
house more than three months, and as it was a beautiful 
day, he would walk out and learn if there were any heat in 
the sun. But there was one difificulty attending this enter- 
prise : it was necessary in order to pass his doorway, to 
throw off more than seventy cloaks ; for in order to feel 
in any way comfortable, he was still obliged to add a new 
cloak every day. While the ceremony of disrobing was 
taking place, Grindall complained bitterly of the cold ; 
and before his assistants could re-cloak him, he became 
nearly senseless. At twelve o'clock he was re-clothed. 
As he stood on his doorstep, which overlooked the lake, 
for the first time in his life he was sensible of the beauties 
of Nature, though in winter ; for having been housed more 
than three months, the glory of the sun, the purity of the 
air, and the sublimity of the lake, which reflected at mid- 
day ten thousand diamonds, seemed for a moment to warm 
his heart. He became exhilarated, and not having the usual 
command of his legs, and being ill-balanced owing to the 
hasty putting on of the seventy cloaks, he faltered, reeled, 
and gently fell on the snow. In a moment, owing to the 
sharp declivity and the moistened surface of the snow, he 
became a huge snowball. The snow as usual had covered 
the tops of the walls and fences, and there was no impedi- 
ment in the descent to Lake Champlaln. Accordingly, 
very soon Grindall became apparently a huge rotund snow- 
ball, and acquired at every rebound additional velocity ; 
and when this man-mountain arrived at the margin of the 
frozen lake, he swiftly passed its whole diameter. 

And now the whole country was rallied to disinter 
Grindall from his mountain snowbank. Various were the 

6 



82 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

speculations attending this snow-scene excavation. To 
some who held Grindall in no respect, it was a half- 
hoUday ; to others more serious, connected with what liad 
already happened, it was more solemn. Some asserted he 
never could be dug out alive ; others, more indifferent, 
said he was as safe as a toad in his winter quarters. 
A physician who had tried all imaginable remedies, as- 
serted he would come out a Avell man ; for the rapid 
circulation of the snowball would equally circulate the 
man, induce a profound perspiration through the whole 
system, and effect a cure. " All that may be true," said 
another physician who had just arrived; "but the man 
can never be dug out alive, for this internal heat, like a 
volcanic fire, will melt the surrounding snow, cause an 
internal deluge, and drown the man." " But," said a third, 
" if the man should come out alive, he will be deranged ; 
for as his descent may have been oblique, all his brains 
probably have fallen on one side." " Never mind what the 
doctors say," said one of the working-men, " old Grindall 
may yet be got out alive, and prove himself a worthy man. 
Though all the doctors could not cure him, this very acci- 
dent may ; for accident and Nature are two great physi- 
cians, and have often outwitted the faculty." 

In the mean time the snow flew merrily. Curiosity light- 
ened their labors and speeded their snow-shovels ; but all 
their efforts could not release Grindall in one day. The 
succeeding night was honorable to the neighborhood, for 
there was a general assembly of the townsfolk, and no little 
sympathy expressed for the fate of Grindall. The next 
day additional succor came, and before midday they came 
in contact with the outside cloak. There was a loud and 
tumultuous call on Grindall. No answer ; but soon they 
perceived a gentle moving of the cloak, as though the in- 
habitant was stirrino;. A moment more and Grindall saw 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 83 

daylight. The first words he uttered were, " Cover me up 
again, oh, cover me up ! I perish with the cold ! " Dis- 
regarding his cries they brought him forth to open day. 
But Grindall's cry was, " Another cloak, or I perish ; " 
and the garment was immediately loaned him by a spec- 
tator. By the help of a sled and four horses he was soon 
at home. 

"When Grindall was first discovered, he looked as fresh 
as a new-blown damask rose ; and though you could see 
nothing but his face, joy seemed to illumine his counte- 
nance, and so far contracted his muscles as to disclose a 
fine set of teeth, which shone from out his many cloaks 
like so many orient pearls at the bottom of a dungeon. 

The spring now began gradually to exchange her heavy 
white robe for a silken green ; and those who knew more 
than their neighbors, said that the only doctor who could 
cure Grindall was the great restorer of the vegetable 
world. Indeed, Grindall himself now looked to the sun 
as his only remedy. But to the surprise of all and the 
despair of poor Grindall, the sun made no more impres- 
sion on him than did the great yellow dog who had 
been hanged on the tree before his door for sheep-stealing. 
At midday in the month of July you might have seen 
Grindall sitting in his now more than two hundred cloaks 
on his door-stone, courting the notice of the sun, which 
regarded him with the same sensibility that it does a 
snow-drift in winter on Mount Bellingham. This cir- 
cumstance of course gave currency to many strange 
stories ; one, for instance, that the coldness of Grin- 
dall's head was such, that a gallon of warm water 
poured on his head, in July, ran down to his shoulders 
in icicles. This, and a thousand such idle rumors, gave 
a miraculous coloring to the real facts ; especially as 
hundreds of people from the frontiers, even from Canada, 



84 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

both whites and Indians, attracted by curiosity, came to 
see a man cUid in ten score of cloaks in July. 

After the summer solstice, Grindall himself began to 
despair ; for the superstition, or more probably the solemn 
reflection of the people, began to treat his case as some- 
thing out of the common course of nature, and they 
believed Grindall to be what the Scotch call " a doomed 
man." This was equal to an interdict of fire and water. 
Grindall's house became a solitude. All, even women, 
refrained from visiting him. 

Thus the solitary Grindall wrapped himself up in his 
many cloaks, and sat on his door-stone, courting in vain 
the rays of the sun. One day when peering wistfully 
through the long avenue of his cloaks at the fervid sun, 
to him more like the moon in winter, he was heard to 
exclaim, "■ wretched me I I am an outcast from hu- 
man nature. There is no human being to sympathize with 
me ; all forsake me. I am alone in the world. At 
home, without a home ; in the world, but not of it. More 
than an outcast, all men fly from me ; even the women, 
the natural nurses of men, have lost their curiosity. The 
dogs do not even bark, but stare at me and pass on. 
The birds have retreated to other woods. How dreadful 
is this solitude ! If I look up, the sun has no genial 
smile for mc ; if I look down, I have no hope but in 
the bowels of the earth. If I look within — I dare not 
look within, for there a solitude reigns more dreadful 
still. Fool that I was, — I once thought a bag of money 
the easiest pillow I could repose on." 

Thus the summer passed away, while Grindall had 
no other occupation than to procure a new cloak every 
day. But about the middle of November, the anniversary 
of the traveller's visit to him, who should call at his 
house but the same man who the year preceding had 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 85 

begged his old cloak. Grindall immediately recognized 
him by instinct, for that was nearly all that remained 
to the unhappy man ; and there came over him a sud- 
den feeling that this same man was connected with his 
fate, and was the harbinger of a good result. Moreover 
the man was supposed to have perished, and his appear- 
ance to Grindall was like one risen from the grave. 
The stranger was therefore doubly welcome. He heard, 
with apparent wonder, an account of the events of the 
past year ; and in conclusion Grindall stated that he had 
exhausted the whole art of the faculty, who had pro- 
nounced him incurable, and that he had at length begun 
to despair. 

"A strange case, indeed," said the stranger. "Tell 
me all that the doctors have done for you." 

" They have done nothing for me ; but I can tell you 
what they have done to me. They have made a laboratory 
of me, and subjected me to all sorts of experiments, — 
cold remedies and warm, internal and external, remedies 
the most opposite. I have been roasted by one, boiled 
by another ; I have been stewed, blistered, and parboiled 
by a third ; merged in hot water, wrung out, and laid by 
to dry, and immediately after subjected to a cold bath. 
I should have been baked could they have stowed me 
with all my cloaks into the oven. The Spanish Inquisi- 
tion is a flower-bed in comparison with the bed the 
doctors have spread for me. They have made an apoth- 
ecary's shop of my inwards, wdiile each one told me his 
own remedy was the sovereigncst remedy on earth for 
'a cold affection of the blood. 

" When the doctors relinquished me, I fell into the 
hands of a hundred old ladies. Good souls ! they would 
have cured me if they could ; for they exhausted all that 
is known of botany. I can tell you the taste of every 



86 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

vegetable that ever grew on the face of the earth, both 
root and branch ; from the sweet fern to the bitter el-wort, 
from henbane to nightshade. And here, oh, forgive me 
if my cold blood warms in wrath ! one pertinacious 
female forced down a whole dragon-root, and said, if 
that did not cure mc, nothing would. It did, indeed, 
nearly cure me of all my earthly pains ; for I thought 
it time to send for the sexton, the only friend I have 
in this world." 

" I5ut," said the traveller, " why did you permit so 
many vain experiments to be tried on you. It is the de- 
light of the physician to experiment on new cases. If he 
succeeds, he has achieved some great thing ; if he fails, 
the case was remediless." 

" Ah ! " said Grindall, " let the well man laugh at the 
doctors ; but the sick man is all ears to those who promise 
help. Cannot you do something for mc ? " 

" I can tell you one thing ; you arc no warmer for 
your many cloaks. It is not the clothes that keep the 
l)ody warm ; therefore whoever can warm your heart can 
certainly cure you." 

" That I fear is impossible ; I never felt my heart 
warm in all my life. Not one of the thousand remedies 
that I suffered ever touched my heart. The dragon-root 
which burned my bowels, made no impression on my 
heart." 

" Nevertheless I can cure you if you will submit to 
the remedy. You may think it cruel and tedious, but I 
believe I can warrant you a cure." 

" Name it, try it, — I am all submission, — and you 
shall have half of my estate." 

" Oh, no ; I must not be selfish, and oppose a cold 
heart to your warm one. I see a change in you already. 
Do you not feel a little better ? " 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 87 

" I do, I protest I do ; the last cloak I put on feels 
rather heavy." 

" The cure lies entirely with yourself ; all the doctors 
in the universe, male and female, can do you no good. 
A permanently warm heart depends on the man himself." 

" Ah, you mock me ; how can a man warm his own 
heart, when naturally cold ? " 

" xVs easy as a man can awake from a sound sleep. 
Pray tell me how many cloaks encircle you." 

" This very day counts a year, that is three hundred 
and sixty-five cloaks." 

" It will require a whole year to perform a perfect 
cure ; in the mean time you will be comfortable, more 
so every day." 

" But what horrible drug are you about to propose ? 
I thought I had exhausted both Nature and art." 

" Be easy, Mr. Grindall, you will swallow nothing. As 
your disorder has appeared to many inexplicable, your 
cure will appear equally so, if you can only warm your 
own heart. I must now leave you ; I am on my annual 
visit to Canada, but when I return I will call to see 
you. To-morrow, about this time, you may chance to 
find a remedy ; but whether or not you will improve it, 
depends entirely on yourself. Farewell." 

The stranger immediately returned to the innkeeper 
and requested him to send to Grindall on the morrow 
the most destitute man he could find. 

" Why, you are the very man," said the innkeeper, 
" who begged his old cloak last winter, and the report 
was you had perished with the cold. You might as well 
attempt to warm Grindall's heart as to obtain a cloak 
from him. He buys a new one every day." 

" No matter ; say nothing about a cloak, but do as I 
tell you. Farewell." 



88 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

The stranger was not in the innkeeper's house one 
minute ; and the innkeeper soon began to tliink a vision 
had passed over him. The call, the conversation, and the 
departure were all one. In a few minutes he began to 
treat it as the magnanimous Jefferson once treated an 
injury, " like one of those things that never happened." 
But still, the more the innkeeper believed it a vision, the 
deeper impression it wrought on him. At that time, in 
those deep solitudes on the frontiers of a savage wilder- 
ness, the natural easily passed into the supernatural ; 
therefore the innkeeper soon resolved, whether he had suf- 
fered under an illusion or had seen a reality, to seek 
out and send a proper object to Grindall. This was no 
easy task. In those days .it was as difficult to find a very 
poor man as it is now difficult to find a very honest one. 
However, before night he found his object ; and as the 
next day proved extremely inclement, the innkeeper thought 
it possible Grindall might give the poor man one of three 
hundred and sixty-five cloaks. 

The next morning, as if by accident, a half-naked man 
stood at the door of GrindaU's house, dubious whether he 
should enter or not. The appearance of the poor man 
was more eloquent than any language, and the day itself 
was a powerful appeal. When Grindall understood that 
a man was standing on his doorstep, he reached liis spy- 
glass, for he was now obliged to use a long spy-glass in 
order to see through the long avenue of his many cloaks. 
As soon as he beheld the man, " What, my friend," said 
Grindall with unwonted courtesy, " has brought you here 
this cold day ? " "I was sent here without any errand, 
supposing y©u wanted to see me." " T did not send for 
you." " It is only a mistake then ; farewell." " But stop, 
friend; you are almost naked. Are you not perishing with 
the cold ? I am under cover of three hundred and sixty- 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 89 

five cloaks." " 1 have on my whole wardrobe," said the 
stranger, " and, thank Providence, my heart keeps me 
tolerably warm." " The heart, the heart, a warm heart," 
muttered Grindall to himself. " ' To-morrow, about this 
time, you may chance to find a remedy ; but whether or not 
you will improve it, depends entirely on yourself.' This 
man, without knowing it, may be the remedy. — Why, how 
wonderful ! You, almost naked in the extremity of winter, 
are comfortable ; while I, by my fireside, clad in three hun- 
dred and sixty-five cloaks, am suffering with cold." " I 
presume, sir," said the stranger, "your heart is cold. If 
you could warm your heart, your cloaks would be a burden 
to you." " Ah, that is impossible. However, you seem to 
be a worthy man ; Heaven may have sent you here for 
your own good, if not for mine. One cloak among three 
hundred and sixty-five can make no great difference. 
Take this cloak ; it was new yesterday, and may you never 
want but one at a time." " I accept it most thankfully," 
said the stranger ; and he departed. 

The next morning Grindall either did feel, or thought 
he felt, a little more comfortable. He sent for the inn- 
keeper and related what had happened. " I feel," said 
Grindall, " or fancy I feel relieved from the burden of the 
last cloak." " If that is the case," said the innkeeper, " I 
advise you to part with another." " With all my heart," 
said Grindall, " if I could find an object." " Ay, sir, I 
fear your trouble now will be to shake off your cloaks. 
It is easier for you to procure a new cloak every day, than 
to find every day a worthy object." " What shall I do ? 
My outside cloak grows heavier and heavier ; it has already 
become a grievous burden. Pray, sir, assist me ; you see 
I cannot go abroad with all these cloaks. If I should fall 
in my present bulk, I should roll again on to the lake, and 
might not be dug out till spring." " Your case," said the 



90 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

innkeeper, " is certainly a strange one, and somewhat 
marvellous ; for I now perceive you suffer more from the 
weight of your cloaks than you do from the cold. Is it 
not so ? " "I cannot say exactly that ; but the outside 
cloak seems to feel heavier than all the others." " I wish 
you were down east in the Bay State," said the innkeeper, 
" among the poor people of Charlestown, who were all 
burned out of house and home by the British. You would 
find among them objects of pity enough ; for I understand 
Congress never gave them a penny, — only told them to 
call again." " If they were within one hundred yards of 
me, I would send every one of them a cloak," said Grindall. 
" But," said the innkeeper, " why do you not take off your 
outside cloak, if it is such a burden ? Why do you wait 
until you can find an object on whom to bestow it ? " "I 
have tried that experiment twice this morning, and each 
time a cold shivering obliged me to put it on again ; but if 
I could find a worthy object, like the one yesterday, I fancy 
that it might warm my heart. I wish to try the same 
experiment again, even if I send to Massachusetts." " You 
need not send so far ; only let it be known on the other 
side of the lake that you have a cloak for a native Indian, 
and you will not want for customers." " White, black, and 
red, in distress," said Grindall, " are all my brethren ; only 
find me a man in distress for a cloak, and you shall have 
my hearty thanks." " A wonderful change, indeed," said 
the innkeeper. " Only last summer there was no human 
being with whom you could sympathize." " True, but 
since yesterday I perceive I have something within me 
which they call a heart ; for after I gave that cloak to 
the poor man yesterday, I soon felt something stir within 
me, warmer than all my cloaks. But talking never cured 
a man like me ; send me a poor man in want of a cloak, 
— that is the best doctor." 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 91 

Soon afterward a stranger entered the door, and Grindall 
asked if the innkeeper had sent him. " Yes," said the 
stranger. " What did he tell you ? " " Nothing ; only to 
go to Mr. Grindall's house, he wanted to see me." " Right ; 
do you know any one really in want of a good warm cloak ? 
You see I have more than my share." " I will thankfully 
receive one," said the stranger. " But with this condition," 
said Grindall, " that you send me another poor man who 
is in want of a cloak." " With all my heart," said the 
stranger. " Then take it with all my heart." 

Thus from day to day Grindall grew a little warmer. 
As the spring advanced, he found it more difficult to be- 
stow his cloaks ; and on the approach of summer he was 
obliged to employ twenty men in scouring the country 
to hunt up suitable subjects. Though in winter the In- 
dians were his best customers, yet in summer no Indian 
would travel far to receive a cloak. 

As the dog-days approached, the anxiety of Grindall was 
redoubled ; for as the heat increased, though he suffered 
nothing from it, yet the warmth of the remaining one 
hundred and fifty cloaks required constant watching, lest 
spontaneous combustion should consume both himself 
and his woollen environment. This converted Grindall 
sometimes into a real spectacle. While sitting in the sun 
he would appear to be enveloped in a warm vapor, such as 
you sometimes see in a morning, rising over a meadow ; 
and when the sun played upon this vapor Grindall would 
appear to be surrounded with beautiful rainbows. This 
was considered by all the curious females in the neigh- 
borhood a good sign ; and they all prophesied that Grin- 
dall would yet come out bright. It is an ill wind that 
blows nobody any good. Although this warm mist pro- 
duced a vapor suffocating to Grindall, it was productive 
of no little benefit to others. Thousands of eggs were 



92 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

sent to Grindall, who enveloped them in his cloaks ; and 
after a little while, from under the skirts there proceeded 
broods of chickens. This breed became famous. The 
gallant little rooster on board McDonough's ship, who, 
previous to the battle on Lalce Champlain, perched on the 
foreyard and crowed thrice, cock-a-hoop, was of this same 
breed. 

One day toward the end of August, while Grindall 
from his door-stone was watching the descending sun and 
eagerly expecting the approach of a traveller to relieve 
him from his outside cloak, it is said he suddenly made an 
unnatural and hideous outcry, which echoed and re-echoed 
through the mountains and over the lake, even to Mcm- 
phremagog. This ebullition of Grindall must have been 
terrific, for the wild beasts, then so numerous on the Green 
Mountains, all left their lurking-places. The bears, cata- 
mounts, and foxes, with one consent took to the trees. 
The wolves alone stood their ground and answered to the 
supposed challenge. It was feared at first that the howling 
of the wolves would be everlasting ; for as the nature of 
the wolf is gregarious, all within hearing assembled at the 
first call, and soon an army of wolves collected around the 
habitation of Grindall. As their howling, like the out- 
cry of Grindall, echoed and re-echoed among the moun- 
tains, the wolves njistook each individual howl of their own 
for a new challenge ; and thus a continuous howl through 
the remainder of the day and following night agitated the 
Green Mountains, even to Montpelier, east, and to the 
borders of Canada, north. But at sunrise all was quiet. 
The howling, from pure exhaustion, gradually died away, 
so that no echo was returned ; and then all was as still as 
when Adam was a lone man. 

One good sprung out of this incident. It was remarked 
for several years afterward that in the vicinity of Ferris- 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 93 

burg no ^vild beasts were to be seen. Hence deer, sheep, 
and poultry, safe from their enemies, increased in geometri- 
cal progression, to the utter subversion of the theory after- 
ward promulgated by Mr. Malthus. The fact was, the wild 
beasts had retired affrighted to other forests. 

Now much of this wolvish story has doubtless been 
added to the account of Grindall. Yet it is in some degree 
credible, for it is well known that the human ear placed 
near the earth can hear the report of a cannon forty 
miles ; and we know that the beasts of the forest, natur- 
ally carrying their heads low, have an ear vastly more 
sensitive to sounds than man. 

After this outcry Grindall exclaimed, " What could have 
kept those men warm, half naked as they were, who cap- 
tured Burgoyne on the other side of the lake ? They must 
have had very warm hearts. Yes, it must be true, as the 
stranger told me, the heart keeps the body warm. I see 
it clearly ; the country is safe, — it never can be conquered. 
Burgoyne spoke the truth when he said it is impossible to 
conquer a people who fight till their small clothes drop off 
in rags. Warm-hearted fellows, I wish I could give every 
one of them a cloak ! But here am I, the wonder and 
horror of all around me ; a dead weight on creation ; 
worse, a monster, repulsive to man and beast, — the sport 
of all nature. The elements conspire against me. I am 
equally exposed to fire and frost. The sun laughs at me, 
and buries me in a cloud of vapor. At one moment 1 am 
threatened with a deluge ; at the next with a conflagra- 
tion ; then comes a wind, a heart-withering wind, and dis- 
sipates all and whistles through my flapping cloaks, and 
sings in mockery : — 

' If old Grindall's heart is as cold as his head 
Old Grindall's heart is the icicle's bed.' " 

But this was only one of Grindall's ill turns. He was 



94 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

evidently growing better, and as the cool weather ap- 
proached he appeared more anxious than ever to shake 
off his cloaks. So far from appearing a doomed man to 
his neighbors, he was considered a man changed only for 
the. better. His house began to be crowded again with the 
curious, and all those who delight in the marvellous. His 
former visitors, except his medical oracles, who confessed 
he was an outlaw to their several sj'stems, came to con- 
gratulate him on what they termed his return to human 
nature. 

But now a new occurrence arrested the attention of all. 
As the season advanced toward the anniversary of the 
grand investment of the cloaks, the daily dispensation of 
each cloak gave rise to various reports, utterly subver- 
sive of the human character of Grindall. The fact was 
thus : Immediately preceding the divesting of a cloak, it 
would appear to be animated with life. It would first 
tremble, then crankle, and then dance all around the 
body of Grindall. It would seem joyful, almost intelli- 
gent, and inclined to speak. It did not shrivel or show 
any sign of distress. Not a few asserted all this was ac- 
companied by a noise not unlike the rumbling of distant 
thunder. But the moment the cloak was put off, it was 
as quiet as lamb's wool. No wonder it began to be noised 
abroad that there was an evil spirit in each cloak. 

Fortunate was it for Grindall that no ventriloquist added 
to the alarm ; for in those days Mr. Page could have made 
all these cloaks speak whatever language he pleased, and 
thus the unhappy Grindall might have suffered an igno- 
minious fate, under the statute of James the First, against 
witchcraft and sorcery. But the event soon showed there 
was no evil spirit concealed in these cloaks ; and, if I may 
hazard an opinion at this late day, I would account for it 
all in a natural way. There was, no doubt, daily a strange 



THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 95 

appearance in each cloak previous to its leaving the body 
of Grindall. It may have trembled, and may have ap- 
peared to flutter about his body. This simple circum- 
stance, even in the present enlightened times, would 
immediately grow into the marvellous. All these strange 
appearances might arise from the bounding heart of 
Grindall. Every cloak that he gave away expanded his 
heart. It beat high with the joyful assurance that when 
all his cloaks had left him, he would become a well man ; 
hence the agitation of his heart caused him and his whole 
environment to tremble, and the supposed thunder was 
only noise caused by his heart-throbs. Greater mistakes 
than this have been made down east, near Boston, where 
the good people of a certain town on the sea-coast lived 
a whole century, after the settlement of the country, on 
shags, mistaking them for wild geese. 

However the truth might be, respecting this affair of the 
cloaks, one thing is certain, — it was near proving fatal to 
Grindall ; for many of those who came to receive a cloak 
in charity, when they saw its tumultuous quaking, declined 
receiving one through fear of catching the palsy. But 
after a little while, when they saw these cloaks lie so quiet 
when cast off from Grindall, and perfectly harmless to 
the wearer, the few remaining cloaks became popular, al- 
though the last of them trembled the most and danced 
the longest. 

The Canadian traveller on his return remembered his 
promise, and stopped to greet Grindall, who had. just 
shaken off his last cloak. Grindall regarded him with a 
feeling of awful respect. He stood silent, but the traveller 
heard Grindall's heart speak. " Your looks, Mr. Grindall, 
have told me all. You have found the remedy. You now 
know how to keep yourself warm in the coldest weather ; 
but in order to keep yourself constantly warm, you must 



96 THE MAN WITH THE CLOAKS. 

have a constantly warm heart. None of your sudden im- 
pulses, warm to-day and cold to-morrow. Most men are 
governed by impulses, and they endeavor to offset against 
habitual coldness, a single warm impulse. There is little 
merit in that. The rattlesnake ' is poisonous, although 
it may show you many golden specks scattered over its 
back. In short, Mr. Grindall, if you desire never to want 
another cloak, keep a warm heart." Grindall followed 
this advice, and before he died became a proverb. " As 
good as old Grindall," is still current west of the Green 
Mountains. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF THE SUFFERINGS OF 
A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF THE SUFFERINGS OF A 
COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 



YE happy beings of tranquil stomach, who sleep on 
beds of down, feed heartily, and fear nothing but 
the nightmare, — ye who are fondly looking for a passage 
through the Isthmus of Darien, in prospect of the turtle of 
the Galapagos Islands, listen to the sufferings of a country 
schoolmaster. 

I was born in New England of white parents, and 
received my education at the University in Cambridge. 
Until my twentieth year I was a member of that sect of 
happy mortals who think with Mr. Pope, " all is for the 
best." At that time the fatal sisters spun me a yarn of 
new color, and caught me in the web, which literally 
preyed upon my entrails. 

In the fourth year of my college life, ere I had arrived 
at man's estate, and although born of white parents, I was 
at noonday publicly sold at auction, on one fatal day in 
March, at a March meeting, — to me the ides of March ! 
On that day was I sold at public auction, and afterwards, 
in the month of December, was I kidnapped into a district 
school in the town of . 

The proceedings relative to me at March meeting ran 
thus, — " Mr. Moderator, I know as well as any man alive 
the advantages of learning ; and as we have thirty dollars 



100 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

in the treasury, I vote that we spend the whole next win- 
ter in giving the boys a complete education." " Second the 
motion," said another, " and let us have a schoolmaster col- 
lege-learnt." It was put to vote, and carried unanimously. 
" But who will board the master ? " said one ; " I will," 
said another ; " and I will," said a third ; " and I live near- 
est to the school," said a fourth. On this, a man arose 
and said, " The master should be put up at auction, and 
whoever will take him for the least money, sliould have 
him." Agreed ; and ten and sixpence, and ten and five- 
pence, and ten and fourpence, down to seven and sixpence, 
regularly decreasing a penny, were successively bidden for 
me. I was knocked down at seven and sixpence. Nothing 
of all this, at the time, could be known to me ; and although 
the town had sacrificed a victim, it could not be foreseen on 
whom destiny would fix for the future schoolmaster. 

The month of December came ; and it was soon known 
that a schoolmaster was wanted for two months in the 

town of . Fifteen dollars per month were no small 

temptation to a young man who had never seen a bank-bill 
numbered higher than five. The best scholars, all of them, 
refused the offer, alleging it would be a reproach to litera- 
ture to teach a school for fifteen dollars per month, when 
they could get as much for tending a stable in Boston ; and 
as horses are generally more docile than boys, the stable 
had the preference. 

At length the proposal was made to me. " Fifteen dol- 
lars per month," thought I, " is very well to begin with. If 
I refuse, I shall certainly lose the money, and then I shall 
as certainly dream of it. Now it is vastly more pleasing to 
dream that you have got the money, than to dream that 
you have lost it." Unluckily, at that moment Shakspeare 
threw in one of his old saws, — " There is a tide in the 
affairs of men " etc. The town agent, who was empowered 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 101 

to secure me, saw my hesitation. He was a sensible, keen- 
looking, hard-featured man, as sharp-faced as if he had 
long been fixed for a weather-cock at the North Pole. He 
was dressed quite tidily, and wore his hair queued with an 
eel skin. His coat was more than square at the skirts, 
much like a mainsail. 

" Young man," said the town agent, " do not think 
lightly of thirty dollars. All things in this world proceed 
from small beginnings ; a pint of acorns in process of time 
will send a seventy-four to sea. With respect to your- 
self, learned as I suppose you are, you began with the 
alphabet. Franklin tells you that five shillings seemed to 
him the nest-egg of all his future prosperity. If you are 
inclined to go with me, the amount which you will receive 
ought to encourage you ; for let me tell you, no man has 
ever received so much from the town." 

" What do you tell me ? " said I. " Do you offer me the 
most that any schoolmaster ever received in your town?" 

" We never, before now, gave more than ten dollars 
per month." 

Here, Alexander the Great conspired against me. I 
recollected he was offered the freedom of a certain petty 
Grecian city ; and when he snorted at the offer, they told 
him he need not turn up his nose, for no stranger except 
Hercules had ever received that honor. He then gra- 
ciously accepted the offer. I considered it would be entered 
on record that I was the first schoolmaster who had ever 
received fifteen dollars per month in the town of . 

" Besides, sir," said the town agent, " money is not so 
easily obtained as you young men imagine. Look at this 
great brick building that you inhabit, and consider for a 
moment how it was built, from the first stroke of the pick- 
axe to the well formed brick in the hands of the mason. 
Heaven and earth united do not give you a mouthful of 



102 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

bread short of three months. Would you know, young 
man, the real value of money, go to Salem." 

In short, the money tempted me, and I, in an evil hour, 
was seduced. I went with the town agent ; and after a 
day's journey, passing through many cross-roads, wo ar- 
rived at a place which appeared to be outlawed from the 
rest of the world. It was the month of December, and no 
snow had fallen, though all was frost-bound. At a dis- 
tance 1 saw a house in the midst of an abrupt, broken, 
and mountainous landscape. The herbage far and wide 
was so sere and withered that it was doubtful if any 
future Spring could refresh it. Such will be the deso- 
lation when Time with his scythe shall visit that place 
at his last call. 

" There," said the town agent, " is your boarding place," 
pointing to a tottering house, the top of which was covered 
with moss, and shone like an emerald. 

" Heavens ! " said I, " can you have a heart to leave a 
fellow-creature in this desolate place ? It would be in vain 
to cry for help here, if any one should attempt to murder 
me." 

" Fear nothing," said he, " crimes are unknown here ; 
the family sleep with their doors and windows open in 
summer." 

" But," said I, " the wild beasts will catch me." 

" Fear nothing," said he ; " we should have reason to 
rejoice at the sight of a wild beast ; he would soon take 
off the rust from our spits." 

Saying this, he dropped me on an ill-shapen door-stone 
that looked as if it had grown there, and disappeared with 
a satisfaction he could ill conceal. 

I was cold, hungry, and sleepy, all which together gave 
me uncommon courage. I entered the house, and was 
welcomed with great diffidence. The family was small, 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 103 

consisting of an elderly man, his wife, a son grown to 
manhood, and a daughter. If the scenery without the house 
was appalling, a fine lesson was read to you within doors. 
Here, nothing was superfluous, and everything within reach. 
You could stand before the fire and reach every article of 
the kitchen establishment, from the gridiron and warming- 
pan down to the pudding-bag and dripping-pan. There 
was no separate kitchen to the house ; and, from neces- 
sity, the keeping-room served for " kitchen and parlor and 
all." " How few things," thought I, " will satisfy our 
real wants. .Thousands in Boston would die of chagrin if 
reduced to this necessity ; yet Adam and Eve lived very 
comfortably without any of these things." 

After inquiring the number of my scholars and the dis- 
tance of the schoolhouse, I requested a morsel of victuals. 
The table was immediately set, and a slice of bread and a 
slice of cheese, with a pewter pot of cider were presented 
to me. The cheese was beautifully white, — it looked ex- 
actly like Stilton cheese ; but to the taste it was quite dif- 
ferent. I have since heard the same sort of cheese called 
white oak. The bread was sweet enough, but rather too 
solid ; the knife cut as smoothly through it as it would 
through the cheese-like clay near Hartford Asylum. The 
cider was as clear as a rivulet, and would have been excel- 
lent had it tasted of the apple. I had resolved to conform 
to the family, and render myself agreeable ; therefore lest 
they might think me delicate in my diet, I ate up all on 
the table. 

Immediately after supper I was shown upstairs to my 
bed-chamber, where I fortunately found a bed and one 
chair. There was only one superfluous thing in the room, 
— a fireplace ; but there were no tongs nor shovel nor 
andirons, nor any signs that a wreath of smoke had ever 
passed up chimney. But to a weary man sleep is sleep. 



104 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

whether on down or straw. Nature was always a leveller 
between bedtime and uprising. 

In the morning I began my daily labors. The school- 
house was nearly a mile from my abode in a northwesterly 
direction ; but nothing is better than exercise for a scliool- 
master. From the appearance of the surrounding country, 
I anticipated an easy task, especially when 1 saw the 
schoolhousc, which appeared like a martin-box at a short 
distance. 1 was quickly undeceived ; although the school- 
house was very small, it was full within, and surrounded 
without. Whether it was the novelty of a " college-learnt" 
schoolmaster, or a laudable desire of obtaining a good 
pennyworth of learning, 1 cannot tell ; but certain it is, 
the building could not contain one half of the scholars. 
Whence they all came I could not imagine , the surround- 
ing country gave no sign of animal life. 1 should as soon 
have thought of opening a school six weeks after the flood 
as in that place. In this perplexity 1 thought it most rea- 
sonable to fill the schoolhousc with the most ignorant, and 
dismiss the rest. Accordingly, after a short examination I 
retained about fifty, and sent as many home. This plan 
was considered by many very judicious, and rendered 
me popular. But alas ! I soon found that popularity 
would not fill an empty stomach. From the first day I 
perceived I was at board on speculation, and that I was 
limited to less than one dollar and twenty-five cents' worth 
of food per week. To sit down to one's dinner with an 
appetite is agreeable, but to rise from table with all the 
pangs of devouring hunger would excite the pity of Tan- 
talus. The ancients could invent nothing worse than to 
show a hungry man a good dinner and deny him a taste; 
I think I could have added to the misery of Tantalus, — 
I would occasionally have given him a taste. 

The pangs of hunger began now to assail me. The 



SUFFERINCxS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 105 

increasing cold, and the daily exercise of travelling four 
miles to and from school, soon gave me a voracious ap- 
petite ; and as the good people with whom I lived had 
taken me upon speculation, I was at the mercy of a close 
calculation. Thrice a day my host gauged that part of 
man which requires food, and as he always reckoned with- 
out me, he made no allowance for my wants. Within two 
days after my arrival my head became sorely affected ; I 
felt drowsy in the forenoon soon after breakfast. This I 
immediately attributed to the right cause. Instead of real 
coffee, I discovered that I had been drinking the decoction 
of a noxious drug, the grain of which has been known to 
kill horses and oxen, — I mean rye coffee, so fatal to the 
intellects of the sedentary and studious. I complained 
that rye was injurious to my head, and requested I might, 
instead thereof, have tea. But alas, there was no tea in 
the house ; they said they had conceived a prejudice against 
tea ever since the Revolution. My next request was a bowl 
of milk — but alas, the cow was dry ! 

In a few days all the luxuries with which the house was 
stored at my coming were exhausted. The cheese, the 
butter, the flour disappeared. Fresh meat there was none ; 
no beef-cart was ever seen in that precinct. I began to 
fear for the pork barrel. That bread wliich at first, in the 
wantonness of my appetite, I compared to Hartford clay, 
was now more delicious than the first bread-cake of the 
Pilgrims. One day as I sat down to dinner, foreseeing 
that should I eat all on the table I should rise with an 
increased appetite, I fainted at the recollection of an inci- 
dent which had occurred to me ten years before. When a 
boy, I passed through the town of Lynn, in the county of 
Essex, on my way to Exeter, in the stage. Just opposite 
the residence of Mrs. Mary Pitcher, the stage broke down ; 
the whiffletree parted, the braces snapped asunder, and 



106 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

there seemed to be a sudden and unaccountable wreck 
of everything, but no one was injured. The passengers, 
one and all, exclaimed that it was done by witchcraft. " It 
is quite likely," said the stage-driver, " for there stands 
Mrs. Pitcher at her door, with her cup in her hand." The 
passengers beckoned to her, and she came out to see them, 
evidently pleased — as I suppose witches always are — at 
the accom})lishment of their purposes. However, as it is 
always best to bespeak the good-will of a witch, the passen- 
gers treated Mrs. Pitcher with great courtesy, and gave her 
some money. She examined the faces of all of us, and for 
the most part made flattering comments ; but when she 
laid her piercing black eyes on me she stood considering a 
moment, then clapped me on the head and buried her hand 
in my flaxen hair, and gently shook me, saying, " You are 
a very likely boy, Johnny, but I fear you will one day die 
of Imngcr." The sudden recollection of Mrs. Pitcher's 
prophecy gave me such an " ill turn " that the family ob- 
served it, and asked me if I was indisposed. I told them I 
felt rather faint. They immediately insisted on my empty- 
ing tlie vinegar-cruet, telling me that vinegar was the 
" sovereigncst thing on earth " for a fainting fit. 

To one who has never palled his appetite in a pastry 
shop, and whose Spartan diet only rendered hunger more 
keen, the idle ceremony of daily holding a knife and fork 
tended oidy to increase the desire to eat. By degrees the 
cravings of hunger changed my nature, and took absolute 
possession of my imagination. One day the whole dinner 
consisted of one dumpling, which tliey called a pudding, 
and five sausages, which in cooking shrunk to pipe-stems. 
There were five of us at table. My portion of pudding 
was put on my plate; I swallowed thrice, and it disap- 
peared. My one sausage was put on my plate ; I swallowed 
twice, and my dinner was ended. I rose from table, deeply 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 107 

impressed with the beauty of that passage in Job : Be- 
hold now Behemoth ; he eateth grass as an ox ; he drinketh 
up a river ; he trusteth he can draw up Jordan into his 
mouth. So I, in my imagination, thought I could devour 
whole hecatombs. I fancied a roast pig would be but a 
mouthful. A knife and fork seemed the most useless things 
in the world. With the two legs of a turkey in each hand 
I made a lantern of the carcass in a moment ; chickens and 
partridges I swallowed whole. If the globe had been a 
pasty, I thought I could have swallowed it. Captain Symmes 
and all. Thus would my distempered fancy prepare the 
greatest delicacies ; so that I often detected myself in the 
act of working my jaws as though I were actually eating 
substantial food. 

I had recently read Riley's " Narrative " of his suffer- 
ings in Africa, and was at the time sensibly affected. 
Now I began to laugh at Riley and his companions, and 
wished myself one of the company. Any man may easily 
imagine that the sense of hunger is far more keen and 
devouring on the hills of New England in the winter than 
in the soft climate of Arabia, where, if a man can once in 
twenty-four hours swallow a pint of camel's milk, he is 
perfectly happy. 

As my sufferings became daily more and more dreadful, 
I was put upon my wits ; and as necessity is the mother of 
invention, one half of that time which I ought to have de- 
voted to my school was employed in devising means of 
preserving my life. And here, in justification of myself, I 
ought to observe that a man consumed by hunger becomes 
by degrees destitute of all moral principle. There was at 
school one little round-faced, chubby, fat fellow of about 
forty pounds' weight, on whom I cast my evil eye; for 
the extremity of hunger makes cannibals equally of the 
civilized and the savage. The Jewish mother, and the 



108 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

recent experience of the French army in their retreat from 
Russia are examples of this. But fortunately a better mor- 
sel was soon thrown in my way. Some of the schoolboys 
had discovered and killed a skunk, and had left it near the 
schoolhouse. When I had dismissed the scholars, I seized 
upon my prey and returned to the schoolroom. With the 
help of my penknife I quickly stripped off the skin, and had 
the pleasure of seeing fresh meat. I laid the tongs and 
shovel across the andirons, and placed the creature over a 
bed of coals. I broiled it a])out fifteen minutes ; and when 
I supposed it sufficiently cooked, I cut it in halves, meaning 
to eat one half, and hide the other in the woods for an- 
other repast. But my appetite was sovereign ; after I had 
eaten the one half, so delicious was the morsel I could not 
restrain the call for more, and I devoured the whole. That 
was a bright and happy day ; but my hunger soon returned. 
Wild meat is not so substantial food as the stalled ox. 

A few days afterward, being faint and weary on my re- 
turn from school, my eyes were delighted at the sight of 
an animal I had never before seen. It was a raccoon which 
the young man Jonathan had taken or rather overtaken, 
for he caught it with the help of his hands and feet. So 
the observation of the town agent, " If a wild beast should 
be detected in these parts, he would soon take off the rust 
from the spit," was true. As soon as the raccoon was 
discovered the young man gave chase. The creature 
after some time ran under a rock for protection, whence 
he was soon ferreted, and a well-aimed stone entirely dis- 
abled him. He was brought home in triumph ; and when 
skinned, he seemed to be one entire mass of fatness, of a 
most delicate whiteness. I was overjoyed ; and both the 
cat and the dog leaped for joy. The dog in particular was 
transported. When he looked steadily at the raccoon the 
water ran from his mouth in a stream. It was in truth 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 109 

an equal temptation either to an epicure or to a man per- 
ishing with hunger. If Vitellius and Albinus had lived in 
the same age, they would more readily have fought for that 
raccoon than for the Roman empire. I retired to bed, as 
was my custom, as early as I could with decency ; for I 
soon learned that all the time I could pass in sleep was 
clear gain to my stomach. But sleep for a long time 
fled before a beautiful apparition in the form of the rac- 
coon. At length I fell into a slumber ; and oh, had I 
been a Mussulman 1 should have wished never to awake. 
I seemed to see the raccoon suspended on a hook, and 
hanging majestically before the fire, perspiring most beau- 
tifully into the dripping-pan. The raccoon roasting in this 
manner showed to far greater advantage than if he had 
been run through with a spit. I eagerly watched it all the 
time it was roasting ; the flavor of it was ravishing, — no 
heathen god ever smelt such an incense. At length I saw 
it placed before me on the table ; and I seemed to have the 
whole raccoon within reach of my knife and fork, and 
most uncourteously I seized upon the whole for myself. 
Yet, however impolite this may appear, it was quite natural ; 
for I know by experience that excessive hunger is exces- 
sively selfish. Steak after steak, slice after slice, collop 
after collop I carved from the raccoon ; and when I could 
cut no more, I took every bone from its socket, and as 
though my appetite increased by the meat I fed on, I 
seized those bones and polished every one of them to 
the smoothness of ivory. When I had eaten all the 
meat, I awoke ; and such had been the deceit practised 
on my senses, that after I was satisfied it was all a dream, 
I could not keep my jaws still, so inveterately were they 
bent on eating. However, as there is no good in this 
world without its evil, so there is no evil without its good. 
I readily consoled myself in anticipation of the real rac- 



no SUFFEKINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

coon, which the coming morrow would place in reality on 
a real table. 

Long before daylight I heard the family stirring ; and 
the alacrity of their footsteps, and the repeated opening and 
shutting of doors, all gave assurance of the coming holiday. 
I arose and loosened the strap which after the Indian 
manner I had buckled around my body in order to pacify 
the corrosions of hunger. This I recommend to all who 
may hereafter fall into my distress, A leathern belt with 
a buckle, drawn tight around the waist, will be of great 
service ; for tlie more you can contract the stomach, the 
little mill within, which is always grinding, will have the 
less room to play. 

I was soon ready for breakfast, and when seated at 
table I observed the place of Jonathan vacant. " Where is 
Jonathan ? " said I. " Gone to market," said they. " Mar- 
ket ! what market, pray ? I did not know there was any 
market in these parts." " Oh, yes," said they, " he is gone 

to , about thirty miles to the southward of us." 

" And what has called him up so early to go to market ? " 
" He is gone," said they, " to sell his raccoon." I should 
have fainted again, but the dread of vinegar preserved my 
senses. I now resigned myself to my fate, and patiently 
awaited the accomplishment of Mrs. Pitcher's prediction. 

" I am doomed," thought I, " to a strange destiny. If I 
perish here I shall die ingloriously and unpitied. If I ab- 
scond, I shall lose my honor, and the story of my sufferings 
will never be credited. There would be some satisfaction in 
being drowned or assassinated, or in perishing with hun- 
ger in a noble attempt to discover the source of the Nile, 
or in exploring the outlet of the Niger ; but to perish here 
in the woods, — perhaps in a snowdrift, where I may lie 
till spring, if the birds of prey do not find me, — is fearfully 
depressing." I then turned my thoughts wistfully to the 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. HI 

seaboard ; and no landscape was ever so pleasing to Claude, 
as the recollection of the clam-banks at low water, on the 
seashore, was to me. How happy should I be if I could steal 
away in the night and watch the ebbing tide, and enjoy a 
feast of shells ! I then compared my situation with that 
of the first settlers of New England, and thought they had 
a great advantage over me. When the winter drove the 
fishes into deep water, they could always get a discount at 
their banks ; clams in abundance, and even the more deli- 
cious quahaug could always be had at bank hours. 

In going to school that morning, I perceived a large 
flock of crows. It was a dark, bitter-cold morning ; and 
the crows hovered over and scaled around my head. "Ah," 
thought I, " sagacious birds, do you foresee that my strength 
will soon fail, and that I shall fall a prey to you ? Oh, 
that the severity of the cold would freeze some of your 
wings that you might become a prey to me." Then, half 
delirious, my imagination carried me to the first inhabi- 
tants of Charlestown. Happy people! Instead of the crows 
coming after them, wild geese in a time of famine were 
ready to fly down their chimneys on to their roasting-hooks. 
Those worthy people had appointed a thanksgiving, which 
threatened to change itself into a fast. The night preced- 
ing the day of thanksgiving was intensely cold ; and while 
an immense flock of wild geese were pursuing their way to 
the South, the frost suddenly seized their wings, arrested 
their progress, and they all fell down into Charlestown 
Square. Every family not only filled their bellies the whole 
winter, but also filled their beds with down. Whereas, I 
was reduced to the extremity that a crow a hundred years 
old would have been to me the richest treasure. 

The next day beheld the earth covered with a deep snow. 
My fears now multiplied upon me. " This snow," thought 
I, " will be my winding-sheet ; I can never in my present 



112 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

weakness force my way through these snowdrifts. I shall 
perish with a double starvation, — with both cold and hun- 
ger. But courage, courage ! " said I. Hope often lingers 
after the footsteps of despair ; and help came even when 
hope was gone. In fact, that day proved to me the happiest 
day in the calendar of that year. I succeeded in gaining the 
schoolhouse after travelling double the distance ; for I was 
so weak that in balancing myself I would frequently retreat 
two steps backward, and then in rescuing one leg from a 
snowpit, I would lose my balance and stagger in a semi- 
circle. It is really incredible how much a man can endure 
in a good cause. But I hasten to describe the most happy 
occurrence of my life. On my return from school, at the 
moment when one leg was about refusing to follow the 
other, and the belt which I had loosened the day before in 
expectation of the raccoon, had just fallen down and was 
resting on my hips, I saw at a distance an object partly 
buried in a snowdrift, which appeared to be a living animal. 
Had it been the Nemcan lion I would have attacked it 
with no other weapon than my penknife. On approaching 
the creature I perceived it was a cow. Instantly I resolved 
to have a steak. I had just read Bruce's travels in Abys- 
sinia, and he had taught me the art of cutting a steak from a 
living cow in the real oriental style. On examination I per- 
ceived she was a new milch cow, and carried not less than a 
pail of milk in her bag. I preferred the milk to the meat, 
and did not mangle the cow. How to get at the milk was 
the thought only of a moment. I perceived the top of a 
stone wall at a little distance, which the late snow-storm 
had not quite covered. Xow, hunger will as readily leap 
over as break through a stone wall. I succeeded in forcing 
the cow to straddle the stone wall. In that situation she 
was as quiet as at her own stanchion. I cleared away the 
snow and laid mvself down in the form of the letter Y on 



SUFFEEINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 113 

my back between the cow's legs, and slie was milked in less 
time than a cow was ever milked before. While draining; 
the cow, my belt soon began to tighten, and became painful ; 
but my handy penknife quickly cut it asunder. When I 
had drained the last drop, I threw down the wall and let 
the cow go. If a pint is a pound, I arose sixteen pounds 
heavier ; yet I felt no ill consequence from that copious 
draught ; it lay in my stomach like a poultice. 

The timely succor of the cow sustained me several days ; 
so that I began to bid defiance to the crows. I lived in 
hope of meeting with that beautiful cow again ; but unhap- 
pily I never saw her more. 

The pains of hunger began again to consume me. 
Strange fancies haunted me in my sleep ; I rambled 
through the country, milking in my own way every cow 
I met, and hamstringing every ox, and cutting steaks from 
them. So jealous did I become, that I often questioned 
myself in my sleep, and argued the point whether I was 
really eating or dreaming. Once in particular, I well re- 
member that I insisted I was eating a beefsteak, and held 
it up on my fork, and said, " This is real beef, this can- 
not be a dream — I am certain I am eating an excel- 
lent beefsteak, I cannot be dreaming now ; so inveterate 
and persisting, busy and alert is excessive hunger. It 
haunts you by night and by day, awake and asleep. But 
happily though the sense of hunger is most ferocious, it 
is not inclined to despair. Had you hung a sirloin of beef 
on one horn of the moon, my hunger would have hoped 
to reach it. 

When I became reduced a second time, so low that my 
belt was lost between my ribs, I was relieved by a happy 
mistake. Instead of the snuff of a candle which was usu- 
ally handed to light me to bed, I found the candlestick 
adorned with more than half of a tallow candle. I cut the 



114 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

candle into four pieces, ate the tallow, and reserved the 
wicks for the last extremity. Before I fell asleep, I fancied 
I felt something stirring the hedclothes. It was a rat 
cautiously climbing up the bed-rug. On any other occa- 
sion this would have been an unpleasant visitor — but in- 
stantly I saw my advantage. I feigned a sound sleep, lay 
quiet, and set my trap. For a starving man — I appeal to 
France — cannot distinguish between a rat and a squirrel. 
I opened my mouth uncommonly wide, nearly from ear to 
ear. The hungry rat, attracted by the smell of the tallow, 
the perfume of which had not evaporated from my lips, 
softly approached my mouth, and began to lick the rem- 
nant, if any remnant there was, of the tallow. I am con- 
vinced the rat was as hungry as I was, and from his gen- 
tle movements, I am satisfied he designed me no harm ; 
therefore I have ever since felt a regret at the foul trick I 
played him. When the rat had tenderly passed over my 
upper, he began with my under lip ; and when he was about 
midway, directly under my nose, I made a sudden snap, 
took his whole head into my mouth, and strangled him 
between my teeth. When the rat was quiet, I dropped 
him on the floor and fell asleep. 

The next morning the candle was missing, and on be- 
ing questioned, I replied with great truth I had no doubt it 
was eaten, as I had seen a rat in the room. 

I now began to think I might probably survive to the 
end of my engagement, as it was drawing to a close, and 
I had four candlewicks, well saturated, and a large rat 
safely deposited in my trunk. 

At this time a strange sight appeared in the neighbor- 
hood. A man with a load of pork, bound for Boston, had 
lost his way. He came up to our door to ask for direc- 
tions. I detained him as long as I possibly could, for 
the sake of beholding the charming swine. My stomach 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 115 

dilated at the sight, and my teeth began to move. As the 
man and team moved off, I discovered for the first time 
that I was a ventriloquist. There came an audible, dis- 
tinct voice from the lower region of my stomach, saying, 
" It is suicide to die of hunger, when food is placed before 
your eyes. Fly ! cut a collop." " But," said I, " thou shalt 
not steal." The voice replied, " That law was not made 
for an empty stomach." I rejoined, " The law has made 
no exception." " Fool," said the voice, " had you rather 
eat a rat than a pork-steak ? " I confess I was not entirely 
convinced ; however, I followed after the team, and slyly 
slid behind it, and, whether feloniously or justifiably the 
Supreme Court can determine, with my penknife I cut 
two as handsome steaks as Eumteus cut from the two 
porkers with which he regaled Ulysses. Oh, the beau- 
tiful steaks of red and white ! I see them even now in 
all their allurement. I put my booty in my pocket, and 
hastened to deposit it in my trunk. -Never did time 
linger so lazily ; the sun appeared to me to be travelling to 
the east, so impatient was I for night, in order to taste of 
my dainty ; for it was now more than six weeks since I 
had had a smack at fresh meat, except that which I had 
eaten at the schoolroom. Bedtime at length arrived, and I 
retired, not to sleep, but to the most delightful contem- 
plations. I cut those steaks latitudinally, and longitudi- 
nally into more sections than you find marked on the 
terrestrial globe. Nothing in the world appeared to me so 
captivating as pork-steaks. Plad I been a calico-painter or 
paper-stainer, the only figures would have been pork-steaks. 
When all was quiet, I arose, opened my trunk, took out 
my steaks, softly descended to the kitchen, raked open the 
coals, rubbed the rust off the gridiron, placed my steaks 
thereon, and soon began to snuff the delicious flavor. The 
dog who was outside of the house, no less quick-scented, im- 



116 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

mediately began to bark. For fear of disturbing the family 
I opened the door, and let him in ; but alas, before I could 
shut the door, he flew at the steaks, seized one in his 
mouth, and although 1 seized him ])y the neck with one 
hand, and thrust the other into his mouth, at one gulp he 
swallowed the whole. While I was contending with the 
dog, the cat seized the other steak and fled up-chamber. 

Many a man has succumbed at a less disappointment 
than tliis. "But, courage!" said I; "do not despair, 
you have still a rat and four candlewicks." I retired to 
bed, and soon began to dream of my steaks ; and when 
I had eaten them, awoke, and found my lips moving 
as usual. 

The next morning discovered a trait in natural history, 
which I will here notice, for the satisfaction of the curious. 
The dog appeared to be sensible he had wronged me. No 
soothing could induce him to look me in the face. He lost 
his animation, curled his tail between his legs, and hung 
his head down to his feet. The next day the dog ab- 
sconded. At first I attributed this to his sense of honor, 
then to his sagacity ; he had obtained one taste of fresh 
meat, and was no longer a domestic animal ; but I was 
in part deceived, as will quickly appear. 

I was now reduced again to great extremity, but was 
unwilling to depredate on the treasure in my trunk, for I 
had still a week more to suffer. However, on retiring to 
rest that night, I determined in the morning to cat two 
candlewicks, and carry the rat to school and cook it in the 
intermission. Soon as I awoke and could distinctly see, my 
wistful eyes turned to my trunk. I partly arose, my eyes 
still fixed on my trunk, and to my sorrow, I saw a mouse 
leisurely go down the side. Miserable wretch ! on taking 
the steaks from the trunk, I had carelessly suffered the 
clasp of the lock to rest on the ridge of it, and left ample 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 117 

room for a mouse and a cat's paw to plunder me. Both 
the rat and candlewicks were gone ! 

Now, indeed, for the first time, my spirits began to fail 
me. The remembrance of the Lynn lady's expression came 
over me with a fearful foreboding. I hesitated for a moment 
to go to school. But as it was a beautiful, bright morning, 
my official duty urged me on ; and with a heart heavier 
than all the rest of my body, I pursued my way through 
the pathless snowdrifts. The . crows, my former visitors, 
with a numerous recruit hovered over my head, uttering omi- 
nous language. Instead of " caw, caw," they seemed to me 
to say, " We are come." At this moment, a whirl of snow 
nearly engulfed me. My bones trembled in their sockets ; 
the north wind pierced me through, and shook every fibre 
of my body. My right leg faltered and sunk into a snow- 
pit, and my left leg refused to help it out. My danger 
was imminent ; for although I had sufficient strength, 
perhaps, to fight off a crow, an eagle or a vulture in my 
emaciated state could have borne me off an unresisting 
victim. At that moment had an umbrella been at my 
command, I should have tied myself to the stick and took 
my chance to other regions. But, joy ! The spirit of hun- 
ger again burst forth in ventriloquism. " See the dog with 
a rabbit ! " exclaimed a voice from the lower regions of 
my stomach. It was true — the noble animal came up to 
me, bold as a lion, his eyes glistening through tears, his 
tail lashing each side of his hams ; he laid a prodigious 
large rabbit at my feet. When the crows saw this they 
disappeared, and I saw no more of them. I placed the 
rabbit in my bosom, covering it with my waistcoat ; and I 
presume there was room for a dozen more. 

This rabbit I took effectual care to secure to myself. 
On the first opportunity I took off the skin, cut it in four 
parts, and put them in my pockets, meaning to eat a 



118 SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 

quarter part daily. But let no hungry man in future say, 
" Thus much will I eat, and no more." When I had 
broiled and eaten one fore-quarter, I was more voracious 
than ever ; and while exerting all my power of restraint, 
the voice below exclaimed, " Treat every part of your 
stomach alike ! " In short, I broiled and ate the hind- 
quarter ; then the other fore-quarter ; and lastly, the other 
hind-quarter : yet after I had eaten the whole, I thought I 
liad swallowed only the phantom of a rabbit. 

Thanks to the dog, I was enabled to linger until Satur- 
day, the twenty-fifth of January ; and then Time with his 
leaden feet released me from my contract with the town 
agent. No one before me ever lived so long in two 
months. Methuselah might complain of the shortness of 
life, — not I. A thousand years were crowded into the 
period of sixty days. After the ceremony of sitting down 
to an ideal dinner I arose to depart, left my trunk behind 
me, took a bundle in my hand, and bade the family a most 
cordial fai'ewcU. I was thirty-one miles from home. Most 
fortunately the wind was in my favor, and blew a gallant 
breeze ; otherwise I should never have reached my door- 
stone. I was reduced to such a gossamer that Zephyr 
would have blown me about at pleasure. As it was I made 
rapid progress. Had a field of wheat covered the whole 
distance, I could have skimmed over it without bending a 
blade. But it was fearful to hear my bones clatter as I 
ran along the road. The journey, although delightful, was 
in one respect unpleasant ; for my incredible fleetness and 
the large bundle in my hand rendered me so suspicious 
that ever and anon persons cried, " Stop thief ! " Yet 
this worried me not ; the hippogriff could not have over- 
taken me. I saw nothing, horse or sleigh, that I did not 
instantly overtake, and as quickly leave far behind. In- 
deed I knew my life was in imminent danger from two 



SUFFERINGS OF A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. 119 

quarters ; therefore I heeded not the ventriloquist, who 
exclaimed, at every tavern I passed, " Stop, oh, stop ! and 
send a message to the cavern below." " No," said I, " life 
depends on speed ; I would not stop to feast with an alder- 
man." In truth, I was fearful if a physician should see me 
he would seize me as a stray " anatomy ; " and to render 
me perfectly helpless, would dislocate my arms, pin up my 
tongue, and fasten me to the wall of his dissecting-room. 
Had I stopped at a tavern, I might have been arrested for 
a mummy, shut up in a lemon-box, sent to Boston, sold to 
Greenwood, placed in the New-England Museum beside the 
little black Egyptian, and there exhibited among a thou- 
sand notions. 

It was a quarter-past five o'clock when I reached home. 
I opened the door ; the family were at tea ; before I could 
make myself known, they all fled in consternation, and left 
the tea-table and all its contents to me. There was but 
one who ventured to examine me, and she immediately 
recognized me and burst into tears. In a few weeks I 
recovered my personal identity, and returned to college, 
protesting in favor of country schoolmasters against 
public auctions and rye coffee. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 
WRITTEN DURING THE YEARS 1803-1804. 



His ego gratiora dictu alia esse scio ; sed me vera pro gratis loqui, etsi 
meum iDgenium non moueret, uecessitas cogit. — Livy, bk. iii. 68. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



These Letters were written during a residence in Lon- 
don, and addressed to a friend in ]\rassacliusetts. The 
writer has endeavored to blend amusement with informa- 
tion, and has attempted to sketch botli national and indi- 
vidual character, with occasional outlines of the state of 
society in that interesting country. The frequent allusion 
to the United States by way of comparison, while it adds 
variety, he trusts will take nothing from the impartiality 
of the work. The public will judge. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER L 



London, June 19, 1802. 

DEAR SIR, — I have just arrived in the land of our 
ancestors, — a land not much less strange to me 
than were the shores of New England to Standish, Carver, 
Winslow, and the other adventurers. They were awfully 
impressed with the grandeur of Nature before she yielded 
to cultivation. I am apprehensive I shall not be less af- 
fected with the excesses to which pride, vanity, and am- 
bition carry those who, endeavoring to rise above, sink 
far below, the standard of Nature. 

A descendant of those ancestors arriving here, might 
naturally ask, " What invincible prejudice, what inveterate 
bigotry, or what pre-eminent virtue induced our forefathers 
to leave this country for a desert ? " Thank God, their 
posterity know how to answer the question ! Three thou- 
sand miles and a desert they justly thought a full equiva- 
lent for what they left behind, notwithstanding the maxims 
of Europe followed them, but which distance in some de- 
gree served to cleanse of their leprosy. 

You may expect, agreeably to promise, from time to 
time, a few notices of those things which I may think 
worth presenting. Letters arc the recreation of literature, 
and are usually written in nightgown and slippers. We 
give our friends our looser thoughts, reserving our abilities 
for more important occasions ; but knowing your taste, 



124 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

feelings, and views, I shall endeavor, so far as I am able, 
to assume a style rather more elevated than is frequent in 
this mode of writing, reserving the liberty of disporting at 
intervals on the surface of things. 

Men, manners, morals, politics, and literature will al- 
ways afford a fertile field of observation. It demands the 
hardihood of personal indifference to speak present truth, 
though afterward the same becomes legitimate history ; 
but at the same time, it requires the pen of Tacitus to 
make the proper discrimination between the people of two 
countries, or even between people of the same country, 
especially in Europe, where even under one government 
there are many different species of men. It would richly 
compensate for a voyage across the Atlantic to observe this 
singular circumstance. Indeed, I know not who can 
travel with more advantage to himself, or to his country, 
than a citizen of the United States, born since the Revo- 
lution ; for the moment he arrives in Europe, the love of 
his own country becomes his predominant passion, while 
his mind is awakened at every step to reason, compare, 
pity, approve, or condemn. But that which will more par- 
ticularly engage his attention is the comparative operation 
of the English and American Constitutions on general 
happiness, — the only true criterion of the excellence of 
every government. 

The few observations which I shall make on the English 
character will be rather an incidental than a definitive 
drawing. I shall not remain here long enough to catch 
those nice and frequently complex traits which mark na- 
tional character, — though I suspect a sign-painter might 
hit off John Bull as well as an artist could do.^ I do not 
think it honest or gentlemanly to draw the character of 
any people while riding through their country on horse- 

^ In the sequel I found myself not a little mistaken. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 125 

back, or to describe a city after lodging in it one night. 
You would not imagine that a certain traveller had passed 
tlirough Boston, on reading that ridiculous anecdote of the 
" house with wooden rollers." You recollect, he says the 
people of Boston live in " moving houses " ; so that if they 
do not like their situation or neighborhood, they move to 
another part of the town. What a strange idea will Euro- 
peans have of Boston after reading such a fabrication ! 
Such a traveller is really unpardonable ; for of all the 
senses, the sight is least likely to mislead. But travellers 
take great liberties ; they lie boldly, and speak the truth by 
chance,^ — not so much, perhaps, from a disposition to wan- 
ton over Nature, as from an opinion that mankind are more 
readily captivated with romance. One of tlie earliest and 
most famous saints does not hesitate to assert that he 
passed through one country, the people of which were desti- 
tute of heads, and through another, the people of which had 
each but one eye. The story of the Amazons had its origin, 
possibly, from some traveller desirous of attracting attention 
at home, or perhaps from certain smugglers who appeared 
at the sea-side dressed in women's clothes ! 

Another traveller, who has done us the honor of publish- 
ing a volume, goes nearly the length of asserting that the 
citizens of the United States look back with regret on their 
separation from Great Britain. 

The same traveller visited Philadelphia ; but not being 
noticed, because not known, he left the city in disgust, and 
charged the citizens with a lack of hospitality. As well 
might one who had just dropped from the moon walk 
the streets of London, and then return with a similar 
report. Should Mr. Weld visit Philadelphia again, where 

1 A mentir hardiment, et a dire la verite par hasard. — Bona venture 
D'Argonne, under the name of Vigneul-Marville. 



126 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

he is now so well known, I am confident he Avould be well 
received. 

Indeed, so little is known in Europe of the people of the 
United States, that if you would describe them, it would 
be necessary to affirm, with no little assurance, that they 
are as white as other people ; that they live in houses ; that 
they boil and roast their meat ; and that they speak the 
English language, at least as well as it is spoken in 
Devonshire. 

Lest I should be premature in my sketches, I shall adopt 
a rule which every stranger ought to follow, until repeated 
observation confirms first impressions ; that is, to open his 
eyes and ears, but seal his mouth. Adieu. 



LETTER IL 

London', June 25. 

I NEVER knew, until the present time, what a weight im- 
presses on one who presumes to utter his opinions on an- 
other country. I seem to 'support the responsibility of the 
nation, and tremble while judging those in secret whose 
grand prerogative it is to be judged in open court. That 
is a dignified office which is licld by one who assumes to 
sit in judgment over a whole nation, and it ought not to be 
filled except by philosopliers ; yet most men have finished 
their travels before they set out. 

The English, like Themistocles, take to tlicmselves the 
first place, because most foreigners allow them the second ; 
and they imagine themselves treated with ingratitude 
unless every stranger throws in his mite of panegyric. 
They are hardly satisfied if you invert the defiance of the 
poet, and praise where you can, and censure where you must. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 127 

It has been the good fortune of the English to be ac- 
cused only of those traits of character of which they boast. 
Charge them with haughtiness, and they will tell you the 
Romans in their best days were the haughtiest people on 
earth. Accuse them of hardness and oppression ; they 
will tell you, these were ever the misfortune of conquerors. 
Tax them with an overbearing demeanor, and they will 
seriously tell you this is a constitutional foible, owing to 
the consciousness of personal independence. Call them 
proud, and they will tell you it is the part of slaves to be 
humble : freemen are always proud. 

It is our misfortune to have been visited by those, who, 
far from being philosophers,^ estimated the United States 
agreeably to the views of Europeans ; hence they have 
thought us two centuries behind the polish of Europe ; at 
the same time, a William Penn or a Rousseau would pro- 
nounce us more than four centuries nearer the great object 
of the social compact. It is not long since a Chinese great 
man (if you will allow the Chinese to have had a great man 
since the days of Confucius) arrived in Boston with a con- 
siderable suite. Being asked his opinion of Boston, he 
very naturally replied, " It is the vilest place I have ever 
seen, and utterly destitute of magnificence." At the same 
time, adverting to the style of living, he added, " Why, my 
father has three hundred servants." 

This man probably went home and thanked God that he 
was not born a citizen of the United States, and was ten 
times more confirmed in his prejudices than when he left 
China ; for travelling is as likely to fix native as to remove 
foreign prejudices. When such a man as Montesquieu, 
after having written the " Spirit of Laws," and appearing to 

1 Even Brissot, I suspect, had formed his opinions of the character of 
the citizens of the United States before he left France. Cliarmed with the 
form of our government, he was easily led to speak too highly of the citizens. 



128 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

sympathize so sincerely with freemen, declares, " As Plato 
thanked Heaven that he was born in the same age with 
Socrates, so I thank God that I was born a subject un- 
der that government in which I have lived," he surely 
displays a childish weakness. It may be pardoned in a 
Chinaman, who has nothing but the soil, and those connec- 
tions which all people have, to attach him to his country ; 
but Montesquieu goes near to prove that a man may think 
and write like a freeman, and yet content himself in a state 
of slavery. My love for my own country is founded chiefly 
on its constitution of government. " Nee in superficie tig- 
nisque caritas nobis patriae pendet." ^ I should prefer the 
salubrious breezes and grateful soil of Spain to the cold 
north winds and iron-bound soil of New England, were all 
other things equal. "Quo me cumque [Libcrtas trahet], 
deferor hospes."^ 

I foresee I shall have to encounter many difficulties be- 
fore I can catch John Bull ; however, I will send you all 
the views of his person that I can collect, and you must 
put them together as well as you can. If you sometimes 
make a small mistake, it is no great matter, for John does 
not always know himself. To understand the English, one 
should be a plebeian in the morning, a gentleman in the 
afternoon, and a nobleman at night ; otherwise, the vari- 
ous grades of society are so fortified in peculiar habit that 
you are in danger of mistaking honest John for a different 
animal. 

A citizen of the United States arrives here under no 
favorable circumstances of birth or of consequence ; there- 
fore, to gain all the advantages of travel, he must either 
break down or leap over many of those barriers of society, 
which, with many, are esteemed sacred. Adieu. 

1 Livy, bk. v. 54. 

2 Horat. Epist., bk. i. I. 15. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 129 



LETTER III. 

London, July 9. 

My attention was arrested soon after my arrival, by a 
most humorous object, — a chariot and eight ; but to do jus- 
tice to the horses, four of the appendages to the chariot 
were not of their species : they were four stout men, such as 
Hannibal would have chosen for his companions through 
the Alps. Three of these gentlemen had their station 
behind ; and with such a lofty air did they carry themselves, 
with so much lace were they puffed off, and so elegantly 
trimmed were their cocked hats, one might easily have 
mistaken them for men of high rank, who were disposed 
to amuse the populace, — especially as the English are 
famous for whim. I was soon undeceived, for I observed 
on many of the gayest carriages four supporters, or 
holders, for the servants. 

An Englishman, accustomed to see such things daily, may 
probably have but one reflection on such an exhibition, — 
"The owner of tliat chariot must be very rich ;" and pos- 
sibly this is the only reflection he ought to make. "What 
purpose can it serve to reason, when our best conclusions 
tend only to discover a situation which we cannot remedy ? 
Slaves ought to have but one sense, that of hearing, and 
but one idea, that of obedience. 

It is the part of a man of judgment, Rousseau some- 
where observes, when surprised by novelty to ask its use. 
This is natural, and is exemplified by the aborigines of 
our own country. They wondered at the stupidity of the 
man who rode about in a chaise, which could not be moved 
without a horse ; but the first man on horseback whom 



130 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

they saw they believed to be one animal, and pronounced 
it an excellent contrivance ; for strength, swiftness, hunt- 
ing, and swimming, — savage attributes and faculties of 
prime consequence, — were present in an eminent degree. 
But had they seen these three stout men behind the 
chariot, they would have perceived little congruity be- 
tween them and the carriage. 

I am strongly impressed that either these useless beings 
imply a great degree of misery or a great degree of servi- 
tude in the nation. If their situation be desirable, it pre- 
supposes such a degree of misery that they are obliged 
to fill the humblest oflices for bread. If they seek tliese 
situations and fill them in preference to others, it implies 
the loss of all sense of human dignity. These are not 
the only evils. These drones are a tax on the industrious 
poor ; they eat that bread for which others are suffering, 
and raise the price of that which they do not consume. 
However, all this is necessary in a monarchy ; the grand- 
eur of the nobles is a part of the Constitution, and must 
be supported,^ — in other words, poverty is a necessary 
part of monarchy. If this evil cannot be remedied, kind 
fortune is daily counteracting it by humbling the great 
and exalting the humble ; otherwise Europe would soon 
become a sad spectacle of tyrants and slaves. So true 
is it, as Beccaria observes : " In every human society there 
is an effort continually tending to confer on one part the 
height of power and happiness, and to reduce the other 
to the extreme of weakness and misery." 

Thei'c are two powerful reasons why the United States 
will not for these hundreds of years afford such a sight 
as those chariot appendages. The proud principles of the 
Constitution will teach the humblest to avoid the distinc- 
tions of master and servant. The other is a more practi- 
1 Vide Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, bk. v. 9. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 131 

cal cause, and is operating daily, — I mean the extended 
territory of the United States. If a man be born poor, 
he is not born to poverty ; or if born to labor, he is not 
born to servitude. He has only to emigrate an hundred 
or two miles, and in the course of a few years he proudly 
looks around him and says, — " This farm is my own, and 
my children will inherit it after me." 

However, I do not wish you to believe the English 
populace are in general so little respectable as those four 
easy men. One could not stand two hours in the street 
without seeing a practical application of one of the first 
principles of the English Constitution. The chimney- 
sweeper knows very well his standing in society ; and 
without seeming to feel for those who think cleanliness 
one of the conveniences of life, he wraps himself up in 
his sooty consequence, and all who would pass by him 
must either hazard the effect of contact or walk in the 
mud until they are out of his reach. The porter, too, 
though his burden should be an impediment to every one, 
keeps the footway ; and no one presumes to request him 
to walk in one part of the street rather than in another. 
I am not certain that I am correct in attributing this to 
the democratic branch of the Constitution ; I am more 
inclined to attribute it to the common law.i The influence 
of the democratic branch of the Constitution is too remote 
from the people to affect them very strongly ; but that 
part of the common law which places the person of the 
peer and of the plebeian on an equality, being known to 
every one, comes home to their feelings, and operates 
most visibly on the lowest. If all people are presumed to 
know enough of the laws of their country to be answer- 
able for the infraction of the same, it would be singular 

1 The common law is a part, and in my opinion, the best part of the 
English Constitution. 



132 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

if they should be ignorant of those laws whence they 
derive all their consequence. 

Preserve the common law, and I believe the people would 
scarcely miss the Constitution. But every good has its at- 
tendant evil : the common law is in continual danger of 
that terrier of Parliament, — statute law ; so that the Eng- 
lish may one day find themselves buried under a mass of 
statutes. Adieu. 



LETTER lY. 



London, August 10. 

One can know nothing of this people without mixing 
with them. They seem, most of them, to have two char- 
acters, — one repellent, especially to strangers ; the other 
quite accommodating and disposed to confidence, if you 
are willing to show them a little deference. Nothing is 
lost by this, for tliey generously disclaim that superiority 
which is granted. 

I have also discovered a remarkable desire in those who 
affect to rank among the better sort, to pass themselves 
off in the presence of strangers for gentlemen of fortune 
and consequence. Last Sunday morning I visited Kens- 
ington Garden so early that but one person was there 
before me. We passed and repassed each other many 
times ; but he showed no disposition to speak, or to be 
spoken to. At length I ventured to accost him ; and to 
whom do you think I had the honor to address myself ? 
It appeared in the sequel that he was a member of Par- 
liament, possessed of an immense landed property in Kent, 
and that he had frequently been offered a pension by Mr. 
Pitt if he would support the ministry, which offer had 
been as frequently refused from a motive of patriotism. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 133 

He said he had foreseen, and advised Mr. Pitt of the 
termination of the war. I observed he must also have 
known Mr. Burke. " Poor fellow," said he, " Burke lost 
his senses a long time before he died ; he quarrelled 
with me at last, after an intimacy of thirty years." This 
man might possibly have been a member of Parliament, 
notwithstanding the attrition of time had effected one 
considerable breach in his hat and two breaches in his 
coat. 

The English are said to hold all other peoples in con- 
tempt, — the usual fault of islanders ; and they indulge 
a sentiment of disdain, arising from comparison rather 
than from any other cause. I am led to the above re- 
mark from an occurrence which lately happened to my- 
self. In travelling to London in a stage-coach, I had 
become so intimate with one of the passengers that just 
before the journey was finished he politely gave me his 
address. I told him I could not in return give him mine ; 
for being a stranger in the country, I knew not where I 
should take lodgings. I thought the man was suddenly 
taken ill, so altered was his countenance in a moment. 
"Are you not an Englishman?" he asked, with a tone 
which partly betrayed mortification that he should have 
made such a mistake, and partly regret that he should 
have done me so much honor as to have taken me for 
an Englishman. " No ; I am a citizen of the United 
States." He seemed to say, " So much the worse," wrapped 
himself up in a revery, and was silent the remainder of 
the journey. 

This repelling trait of character, for which the English 
are noted, does not arise, in my opinion, entirely from 
their disposition. In a country like this — a commercial 
country — where the interest of each individual interferes 
in some form or other with his neighbor's; where the 



134 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

people mutually thrive at one another's expense ; and 
where even the pious, if they put up a prayer in the 
morning for a blessing on the day, the substance of it 
must be the overreaching of their fellows, — among such 
there is no room for cordiality ; and when attentions are 
proffered, the motive ought to be suspected. All will be 
suspicious of those with whom they are unacquainted, 
especially in such a city as this, to which rogues of all 
descriptions resort, cither to hide their infamy or sell it 
for a higher price. Hence the first maxim should be to 
know nobody by whom you are not likely to profit. An 
apostle among such a people would command no more 
attention than a ballad singer, and Avould afford specula- 
tion to no one but a Jew clotliesman. 

How far these observations apply to our own country, 
I leave you to judge. I believe commerce preserves the 
same character in all countries and in all ages. The 
merchant of Alexandria, who arrived in a time of famine 
at Rhodes with a cargo of corn ; the bankers of Syracuse, 
who sold Canius, the Roman knight, a farm with a fish- 
pond in it ; the merchants of Amsterdam, who cut down 
the cinnamon-trees in the East; the Hamburghers, who 
betrayed Xapper Tandy ; the merchants of Liverpool, who 
pray God not to change the color of the negroes ; and cer- 
tain merchants of Boston, who dream of wars in Europe 
as the greatest blessing which Providence can send, are 
all allied to the same family. How applicable to the 
present time is the following remark, made nearly nine- 
teen centuries ago : " Quod si, qui proscribunt villam 
bonam beneque ledificatam, non existimantur fefellisse, 
etiam si ilia nee bona est, nee sedificata ratione." ^ 

Thank God, the United States are rather an agricul- 
tural than a commercial country ; otherwise, in spite of 

1 Cicero De Officiis, bk. iii. 13. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 135 

the Constitution, our republic would soon be lost in an 
odious aristocracy, and what is still worse, a commercial 
aristocracy, which experience proves to be the most inex- 
orable and cold-blooded of all tyrannies, whose maxims are 
founded on cautious speculation, and acted on in all the 
varieties of monopoly, — maxims which, fortified by law, 
strengthen the powerful at the expense of the weak. For- 
tunately for us the citizens, lords of their farms, will have 
interests different from the merchants, and will be for- 
ever a check on the spirit of commerce. Were it not for 
this last circumstance there would not be virtue suffi- 
cient in the country to support our form of government, 
except for a very short period. I know not if these senti- 
ments meet yours, but from what I have already observed 
here, I am confirmed in them. It is neither the king 
nor the nobles nor the commons who govern England, 
but stockjobbers, commercial companies, and monopolists. 
Parliament is only a sort of attorney to draw up their rules 
and regulations, and ratify them according to law. 

Adieu. 



LETTER Y. 



London, August 20. 

The election of members of Parliament, for Westmin- 
ster, recurred in July, Everything relative to this popu- 
lar prerogative will interest a citizen of the United States ; 
he cannot observe the hustings without a warm reverence 
for the great original of his own freedom. The theory of 
a popular election is a political sublimity which a demo- 
crat cannot contemplate without rapture. It practically 
brings society back to first principles, checks the tendency 



136 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

of government to usurpation, arrests the bolt of power in 
the hands of the wicked; and though frequently perverted 
in practice, and made to sanction its own destruction, yet 
election keeps alive the principle and asserts the virtue of 
at least a part of the people. 

The following notices I made in Covent Garden, the 
scene of the election. 

The candidates were Mr. Fox, Admiral Lord Gardner, 
and Mr. Graham, an auctioneer. All was quiet until the 
candidates appeared. First came Mr. Fox. On presenting 
himself at the front of the stage, elevated a little above 
the heads of the spectators, a violent uproar of applause 
commenced with, " Good morning, Charley," which scarcely 
ceased, when Lord Gardner and Mr. Graham appeared. 
The popular suffrage seemed to be divided between these 
two. Fox was not opposed ; but a scattering hissing and 
clapping, at short intervals, commenced when cither Gard- 
ner or Graham appeared at the front of the stage. 

Whether or not the people, from some cause, are weary 
of the popular branch of their government, or whether they 
consider an election a mere mockery, or an affair which 
concerns only the candidates, or whether Mr. Graham was 
not a man of sufficient weight to contest^ the election seri- 
ously, I know not ; but certain it is, the election appeared 
to me a sort of Bartholomew Fair, to which the people 
came, some for amusement, some to pick pockets, and 
some merely to increase the crowd, while the candidates 
afforded the entertainment, which was not without humor. 
You know the English fancy themselves free once in seven 
years. This election brought to my mind the Roman 
Saturnalia. During the hustings, likewise, everything is 
taken in good part by the candidates, who court popularity, 

1 The candidates have usurped the word " contest." One would imagine 
that the people should contest an election, not the candidates. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 137 

sometimes not disdaining to be carried home on the shoul- 
ders of the people. 

The candidates usually address the crowd at the close 
of each day's poll and return their most sincere thanks for 
the support they have received, and sometimes lay their 
hands on their hearts, and urge their friends to come for- 
ward the next day with redoubled ardor. Those who are 
not in the habit of public speaking, frequently (at least it 
was so in the present instance) authorize some friend to 
represent them to their future constituents. 

The daily state of the poll is painted in a conspicuous 
place, to satisfy the curious. This I imagine is absolutely 
necessary ; for John Bull would think himself imposed 
on if not permitted every day to see how the election 
is going. 

Sometimes the electors are disposed to shake hands with 
their representatives, one of whom, with seeming cordiality, 
said, " Ah, Charley, it is seven years since I had the pleas- 
ure of shaking hands with you, how have you done all that 
time ? " " Ah," groaned another man among the crowd, 
"it is only once in seven years that the two parties do 
shake hands." 

Lord Gardner was not so civilly received ; but he bore 
the sarcasms of the populace with much good humor, and 
seemed by his demeanor to be confident of his election in 
spite of his opposers. A sailor stripped off his jacket and 
shirt before the hustings, and asked, " Do you remember 
when you gave me that flogging ? " At the same time an- 
other threw a halter at Lord Gardner telling him to recol- 
lect Governor Wall. The Admiral seemed for a moment 
mortified at this. He said nothing, but looked a sort of 
appeal to the spectators as if he had said, " Do I merit the 
charge ? " All were softened in his behalf, and by their 
murmur of applause acquitted him instantly. This ready 



138 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

disposition to espouse the cause of the injured, is one of 
the finest traits of character in the plebeian English. 

At the close of the poll, Mr. Fox and Lord Gardner 
were declared elected. 1 could not readily account for 
this ; Fox was not opposed, and yet Graham, who was in 
Fox's interest, lost his election. Mathematically speaking, 
one might say such a conclusion was impossible. 

The election continued eight or ten days. 1 believe it 
in the power of either candidate to extend the time at 
pleasure. If so, there is an opening to the greatest ex- 
cesses, for every election is not conducted with such good 
humor as was this.^ Broken limbs, and even homicide, 
are not unusual at some elections. How will you account 
for it ? The citizens of the United States ought to have 
the prerogative of suffrage much more at heart than the 
subjects of England have, and yet at no contested election 
in the United States was there ever a citizen killed, nor 
did I ever hear of a broken limb. The cause must be 
sought in the candidates and not in the people. 

You will expect a description of Mr. Fox, his appearance 
and demeanor. You wish to know how he was dressed, 
how he stood, and how he looked. In his youth he is re- 
ported to have been as great a fop as was Aristotle. At 
present I will only say his appearance was altogether 
against him. He looked as if he had been long in the 
sea-service, and after many a storm, had retired on half 
pay. His greasy buff waistcoat, threadbare blue coat, and 
weather-beaten hat, gave him, in connection with his great 
corpulency, dark complexion, and short dark hair hasten- 
ing to gray, very much the appearance of a laid-uj) sea- 
captain. He has the countenance of an ancient English- 
man, but long watching has changed the complexion of 

1 At the three preceding elections murder was committed. This circnm- 
stance alone is nearly sufficient to prove there is no liberty in England. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 139 

health to a dun color. He would be thought at present, 
by one who did not know him, to be a man of noble dis- 
position rather than a great man. When I hear him in 
the House of Commons I will give you my opinion of this 
great favorite of our citizens ; though why he should be 
a favorite, I know not. He is not more a democrat than 
Mr. Pitt, nor have his exertions benefited his country ; 
they have only exasperated inveteracy and strengthened 
opposition- by calling forth a ministerial energy, which not 
only touched hard on the true principles of the Constitu- 
tion, but too plainly proved that there was not sufficient 
affection in the people to support a government for which, 
if Mr. De Lolme be not a bombastic panegyrist, every Briton 
ought to be proud to die. So that, with all his ability as 
an orator, and all his logical deduction as a lawyer, he 
must pass down the current of time as an -^Eschincs or 
Hyperides, — a foil to set off Mr. Pitt, whose ascendant 
genius has shone with a blaze sufficient to encircle his 
own head, even amidst the ruin of his country. 

For my part, 1 regard the late administration with an 
eye less favorable to the glory of Mr. Pitt than do many 
of our citizens. The loss of three hundred millions ster- 
ling and the gain of ninety-five peers are trifling compared 
with the loss, in a great measure, of that old English spirit 
which formerly distinguished John Bull from all other be- 
ings, and which spirit led our ancestors first to Leyden 
and Soon after to Plymouth Rock, — an expedition which 
might have revolted a Scotchman. The late iron-handed 
administration, fearful of every one who was not directly 
or indirectly a part of itself in the midst of that terror 
which it inspired, displayed its imbecility by what it was 
pleased to term its own inherent energy. 

Who supports our Constitution ? Who supports the 
administration of our government ? Mr. Jefferson ? No, 



140 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

no ; the strength of the government of the United States 
is founded only in legitimate strength, — in popular senti- 
ment, in popular affection. We have no personal attach- 
ment to our presidents and governors, and ought not to 
have ; we respect them only as constitutional statesmen. 
Such a government might be a laughing-stock in Europe 
— more shame to Europeans ; but this is certainly an ex- 
perienced fact, that " those who have once been blessed 
with a free government have never lost their freedom until 
they were unworthy of it." They could not lose their lib- 
erties by any accident in the train of worldly vicissitude ; 
they would not, like the oak, be subject to the whirlwind, 
nor like the wheat blade, to the silent mildew. Neither 
force nor fraud ever ended in successful slavery. Force 
and fraud can fmd nothing on which to act until the people 
forget their original principles. Sinon in his wooden horse 
may enter Troy, but his success depends on the situation 
of the Trojans.^ There is no good reason for doubting 
Cromwell's sincerity at first ; afterward he thought the 
nation incapable of a free government and took the most 
ready method of ascertaining the point, and was successful. 
I never thouglit worse of Cromwell for his usurpation. He 
was not a tyrant over those who courted his tyranny. 

If the English were incapable of self-government then, 
still less so are they at present. Bonaparte has tried the 
same experiment with still less force, and with still greater 
success ; fugitive from Egypt, he well knew the termination 
of his journey, — the empty chairs of the directory. The 
English and the French have both had an opportunity of 
establishing an equal government. Events have proved 
that the blood of their sovereigns was offered up to strange 
gods. These efforts, in both cases, were worth making; 
but they finally demonstrated' that a legitimate republic 

1 When Sinon entered Troy, they were celebrating a grand rout. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 141 

requires principles to which the people of both nations 
were altogether strangers. 

When the citizens of the United States become strangers 
to these principles, they are no longer free. Should I live 
to see that day, I should triumph in their slavery. I can- 
not find it in my disposition to sympathize with those who, 
having once felt the sentiment of liberty, could be rendered 
cold to its influence. The tyrant Tiberius stands acquitted 
before that senate who mingled tears with joy, and regret 
with flattery.! Could John Hampden have been recalled 
to life in the days of the second Charles, I have often 
thought he must have expired in indignation. 

Adieu. 



LETTER VI. 



London, August 30. 
It is somewhere observed by Dr. Johnson, that a deed 
with all its legal solemnities is one of the severest moral 
satires on mankind which study could invent. He need 
not have gone far to have found subjects for many more 
positive and direct reflections to the same purport. A deed 
is rather a satire on the approaching than on the present 
age, being made with a view to posterity, who, it supposes, 
will give no more credit to the present than they are 
obliged to do by force of law. Besides, a deed supposes 
only a passive kind of dishonesty, which might endeavor 
to defeat the original design by legal interpretation ; but 
a large number of men (the city watch), in time of pro- 

1 Vultuque composito, ne Iseti excessu Principis, neu tristiores primordio, 
lacrimas, gaudium, questus, adulatione miscebaut. — Tacitus, Annals, 
bk. i. 7. 



142 LETTEKS FROM LONDON. 

found quiet, distributed over a city but witliin call of one 
another, armed, some with clubs and others with blunder- 
busses, looks very little like the extreme, or rather very 
much like the extreme of civilization. 

Most of those magnificent houses round about London, 
which proudly retiring from the city for the benefit of air 
and prospect, seem built as much with a view to external 
grandeur as to domestic convenience, are so completely 
guarded with high brick walls that you might imagine the 
Barons' wars had not yet terminated ; for his house in a 
double sense is the owner's castle. Nor can you look into 
the gardens by reason of the fortifications ; though you fre- 
quently see an elevated sign at the corner, requesting you 
to take notice that " man-traps " are placed there. 

The houses in the city, even if they have ten feet of rear 
ground, suffer the inconvenience of darkness and confined 
air by reason of high walls, to the tops of which broken 
glass bottles are usually cemented, — I do not say to 
guard against the neighbors. 

The security of the house in which I reside is guaranteed 
in the following manner : The door has a double lock, a 
chain and two bolts, besides an alarm bell, which is care- 
fully fixed to tlie panel every night. A watchman, if he 
does his duty, passes by the door once in thirty minutes. 
Another watchman is stationed in the yard and doomed 
to perpetual imprisonment with a chain around his neck. 

This wariness is perhaps as necessary in London as the 
guarded circumspection in wording and the various for- 
mality of executing a deed. But there is another caution, 
though in appearance much of the same complexion, 
which does the people infinite honor, — I refer to the Chris- 
tian part of the community, who lock up their pew doors, 
lest the church should be profaned by those who have no 
right to hear the Gospel. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 143 

The story which they tell of the savage, who was invited 
to send his son to New York to be educated, might have 
been more highly embellished at London. I know not if you 
have met with it. The savage said he would consider of 
the proposal, but would first see the people, and take a view 
of the city ; and if he gave the preference to our mode of 
life, should have no objection. On entering New York, he 
manifested little of that surprise and admiration which 
novelty usually produces in the ignorant. The first object 
which attracted his notice was a negro. He had never 
seen one before. He asked, " Who is that black person ? " 
and was informed that he was a negro slave. The meaning 
of the word " slave " being explained, he asked the cause of 
his being a slave. " Why, he is black." The Indian said 
nothing : you know it is his habit in the most serious con- 
cerns to proceed with a coolness which looks like indiffer- 
ence. Presently he observed a gentleman getting out of a 
coach, with the assistance of two or three persons. This 
arrested his attention. He asked, " Who is he ? " and was 
told he was a very rich man who was afflicted with the 
gout. He asked, ••' What is the gout ? " and was informed. 
The savage said nothing, but passed on. Presently, he saw 
a man apparently in distress enter a certain building un- 
der the guard of another. He asked the reason of this, 
and why the building looked so gloomy. He was told 
it was a prison, in which both those who would not and 
those who could not pay their debts were confined. The 
savage said nothing. He now saw a beggar asking charity, 
and demanded, " What makes so much difference between 
those two men ? " The explanation of this involved most 
of the principal relations of society. The savage paused, 
and seemed to reflect with deep consideration. At length 
he smote his breast, and said he would proceed no farther ; 
nor could he be persuaded to tarry one night in the city. 



144 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

I have imagined the same wild man's mode of reasoning 
had he come to London. I pass over those few particulars 
which speak full as strongly, I think, as Dr. Johnson's 
deed. 

Had the Indian entered the city by the west end, he 
might have seen on Hounslow Heath two of those gentle- 
men who live and die at the public expense, suspended on 
gibbets ; one of whom, from the appearance of the skele- 
ton, must have been a remarkably fine fellow. He would 
suppose these skeletons were monuments, sacred to the 
memory of redoubted chiefs, and animating examples to 
the rising generation, of undaunted valor, wary stratagem, 
or Indian fortitude. The savage would naturally inquire, 
how they encountered their death ; in what glorious, but 
fatal struggle they fell ; what unusual exploits tlicy per- 
formed to merit such a conspicuous station ; and what 
enemy had the honor of conquering them ? Alas ! he 
would be told the scene of action was Hounslow Heath, 
the encounter memorable only in the Newgate calendar, 
that they were thought to merit their high station in the 
unanimous opinion of twelve men, and the famous fellow 
who triumphed over them was one Jack Ketch. After 
the code of English criminal law had been explained to 
him, he would find sufficient to divert his mind until he 
reached Hyde Park corner. 

By the time the Indian arrived there he would be ren- 
dered so tame he would not dare to reach over a hedge 
to cut a walking-stick. "What a reflection ! that he, who 
had been accustomed to consider the largest quarter of 
the globe his park, all the rivers and lakes his fishery, 
and all the forests subservient to his necessities or pleas- 
ures ; that he, who had considered himself the centre of 
being, and fancied the circle of creation moved with him- 
self, should suddenly find his person in the king's high 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 145 

way, and liable to be put in closer confinement if he over- 
stepped the narrow limit of sixty or seventy feet. 

To shock the man's feelings as little as possible, 1 would 
not hurry him into the city, but would take him to St. 
James' Park, in order to show him the decency, the order, 
and the magnificence of a well-regulated government. But 
even here he would ask certain questions which it might 
be invidious to answer. The numerous houses of noble- 
men which border the park would raise the question of 
their origin and present support. " This man's ancestor 
found the weak side of a weak prince, and his posterity 
have been maintained ever since at the public expense. 
That man's great ancestor by his abilities became so for- 
midable to the State that it was found necessary, in order 
to change his conduct, to quiet him with an earldom ; and 
though Nature, through his descendants, has inflicted a 
posthumous penance on him for perverting his abilities, 
yet that only affects their intellects, not their dignity. 
That house is considered one of the first in the kingdom 
because the proprietor's ancestor, many years ago, nearly 
ruined the nation." " But does not every age produce a 
sufficient number of chiefs?" the savage would ask, "why 
then the necessity of making those men chiefs who had 
none of the requisite qualities ? " The shortest answer 
would be that they never were made such, and that they 
were in general nothing more than reflected greatness, 
like the moon which he had so often seen when standing 
on the banks of the Potomac. 

On viewing the king's guards the question would occur, 
" Is it a time of war ? " Being answered in the negative, 
the stranger would naturally ask, " Of what use are these 
soldiers m time of peace, and by whom are they sup- 
ported ? " After being informed that men in Europe are 
so depraved that their chiefs are obliged to raise armies to 

10 



146 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

keep them in awe, ho would ask, " Are those chiefs pro- 
vided with the means to subsist and clothe them V " The 
answer would be, " The people themselves, to guarantee 
their own obedient conduct, raised them and paid their 
expenses." This would be altogether unintelligible, and 
it would be necessary to enter into a thousand political 
relations, which would only serve to perplex him still 
more. 

Our Indian should now be shown the Tower. After view- 
ing the trophies and the armory, with which he would be 
enraptured, and comparing the armor of former days with 
the stature of men of the present time, he would ask, " For 
what purpose was the Tower built ? " On being told, " To 
defend the city," he would naturally inquire, " Why do 
some of the port holes open directly on the city?" 

In passing down to Wapping, he would meet a press- 
gang which had apprehended some sailors. He would be 
told that persons of this sort were carried on board the 
ships to the number of eighty or an hundred thousand 
men, and confined there for the space of four, six, or 
eight years. He would probably ask, since the criminal 
code had been explained to him, " What enormous crimes 
have they committed to be thought worthy of such an 
inhuman punishment ? " He would be told that these 
people, so far from having committed any crime, are in 
reality the most useful members of the commmiity, and are 
actually esteemed the grand pillars of the empire. Here 
the poor devil would be confounded, and might exclaim 
in the Esquimaux or Mohawk dialect, " Credat Judaeus 
Apella ; non Ego." 

In returning from Wapping, the visitor should look into 
the Royal Exchange. Observing the continued hum of the 
citizens, he would ask, " Why do those people appear so 
busy about nothing ? " and would greatly wonder on being 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 147 

told that here was concentred the vital principle of the 
nation, which diffused its influence throughout the world ; 
that here was the heart of the empire, — but unlike the 
human heart, which sends the current of life through the 
body, it drew from the four quarters of the globe its own 
support. It would then be necessary to enter into the 
history of the East and West Indies. " But, if one half 
of the world suffer more or less to subserve the wants of 
this people, why have I seen so many of those you call 
beggars ? " The national debt must now be explained, in 
order to convince him that it was absolutely necessary 
that one half of the nation should prey upon the other ; 
and that for each of those whom he saw in the Exchange 
there must be many who wanted bread. But what of 
that ? The rich delight to see themselves surrounded by 
the poor, because from them they gain one half of their 
consequence. 

By this time the savage would become incredulous, and 
imagining his facility was tempted, his impatience might 
rise to indignation. Therefore, to give him a practical 
view of London on the body, mind, and life, he should 
visit Heaviside's Anatomical Museum, Bedlam, and the 
Old Bailey ; and whether he would leave the city more 
or less a savage, I think it rather doubtful. 

Adieu. 



LETTER YII. 



London, September 11. 

The English are a more civil people than our own ; at 
least they are more disposed to street civility. I have 
not accosted a Londoner, nor indeed any of the country 



148 LETTEES FROM LOXDOX. 

people, -u'hose ready attention did not surprise me ; but 
there is a perceptible difference between the civility of the 
plebeian and of the gentleman. If you request a gentle- 
man for any little matter of information, he may possibly 
seem to say, " I am no guide-post," while the plebeian is 
ready to become one. In general, however, you are sure 
to meet with that cordiality which one owes another who 
has placed in him so much confidence, as eventually to ex- 
pose yourself to a degree of ill-treatment by being roughly 
answered. A pertinent question, accompanied with a de- 
meanor which does not assume superiority, invarial)ly 
receives from the common people decent respect, if riot 
disinterested courtesy. This was unexpected, as the Eng- 
lish are usually called barbarians by foreigners. 

From whatever cause this urbanity proceeds, it is cer- 
tainly pleasing to a stranger who finds himself among a 
million of people, nine-tenths of whom owe but little to 
society. 

Not so with our citizens ; they seem to carry the Declara- 
tion of Independence about with them, and to regard the 
least degree of urbanity which may possibly be construed 
into obsequiousness, a breach of the Constitution. Stran- 
gers are most likely to observe this ; hence their first im- 
pressions are unfavorable. 

This want of urbanity, I am inclined to think, is the 
offspring of manners rather than of morals, and does not 
affect the disposition. The Chinese are said to be the 
most civil people in the world. The French, too, are more 
noted for politeness than cordiality. I believe the cause 
is to be sought in the form of government. It is a politi- 
cal paradox, I allow, that people under the worst form of 
government should even appear to have any commendable 
qualities. Despotic governments have ever produced the 
most pliant, accommodating, and obliging subjects ; while in 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 149 

limited monarchies the people have departed from this 
character in the degree that their monarchy has been lim- 
ited. Democracies have ever produced the contrary char- 
acter in the degree the democracy has approached to a 
state of nature. We have a remarkable instance of this 
in the anecdote recorded in Robertson's Charles V. Clovis 
was nominally king of the Franks. His followers on a 
certain expedition had plundered, among other things, a 
vase belonging to a church. The bishop sent deputies to 
Clovis to beseech him to return the sacred vessel ; and 
Clovis, willing to restore it, requested the soldiers to per- 
mit him to take that vase for himself before the plunder 
was divided, when a fierce soldier stepped forth and with 
his battle-axe broke the vase into a thousand pieces, saying, 
" He shall have nothing which his lot does not give him." 

I am still less willing to believe this spirit of subservi- 
ence is indicative of a substantial virtue to which our 
own citizens are strangers. A late physician has sup- 
posed thirty-seven persons to die daily in London from 
want of the necessaries of life ; yet London, above all 
places, is renowned for charitable institutions and volun- 
tary subscriptions, while the cities of the United States 
(Charleston and New York excepted) are chiefly famous 
in the journals of travellers for debt and credit ; for all 
that, I am sure it would be suicide if a man should starve 
to death in the United States. However, it is no reflection 
on the humanity of England if many die of want. To 
provide for all who are suffering would exhaust the bounty 
of Providence. With us the case is different. The fer- 
vency of many a pious Christian's charity cools before he 
can find an opportunity of bestowing it ; and because chari- 
ties are consequently unusual, certain superficial observers 
have supposed there is a lack of sympathy, to excite which 
there is no object. 



150 LETTEES FROM LONDON. 

Europeans believe the people of the United States to 
be pre-eminent for hospitality on account of the facility 
of obtaining a livelihood : whereas, in fact, we ought to 
be the least hospitable of any people. If you except the 
single case of merchants, you will find hospitality has 
ever flourished most where there has been the greatest 
inequality of rank and fortune. It is a feudal, rustic 
virtue, which the vigor of equality relaxes, and which the 
decay of chivalry renders useless. Where there are few 
beggars, there will be little charity ; and where there is a 
prevalent equality of condition, there will be little hospi- 
tality. Yet surely that town cannot be thought inhospi- 
table through which no human being could pass with an 
empty stomach, if he would condescend to make his wants 
known. I do not mention this in contrast to the country 
people of England, seven-eighths of whom are laboring 
tenants, with the exception of those who depend on their 
precarious labor. This circumstance — connected with the 
state of society, which, in consequence of land monopoly 
originating in a spirit of commerce, has rendered the con- 
dition of the lower classes ten times worse than it was 
under feudal institutions — must naturally raise a hedge 
about their hearts and contract the generous affections. 

I know tliat the opinion is advanced in books that our 
distresses soften the heart and lead to commiseration ; yet 
universal experience is to the contrary. Present distress 
engrosses our thoughts and renders us altogether selfish ; 
past pains we know to have been tolerable, and are in- 
clined to despise those who do not endure them with 
dignity. Thus Tacitus : ^ " Quippe Rufus diu manipularis, 
deinde centurio, mox castris praefectus, antiquam duramque 
militiam revocabat, vetus operis ac laboris, et co immitior, 
quia toleraverat." The negroes who are made overseers 

1 Annals, bk. i. 20. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 151 

of plantations are said to be the most severe taskmasters. 
Blood familiarizes to blood. Achilles, who was discovered 
in the habit of a virgin, romping among girls at a boarding- 
school, could after ten years' warfare please himself with 
the sight of the dead body of the respectable Hector, 
dragged at his chariot wheels, — "Ter circum lliacos rap- 
taverat Ilectora muros.'" ^ In short, those who have suf- 
fered most distress are the most ready to laugh at the 
distresses of others ; hence old age is less than youth 
disposed to pity. Were it not so, the people of Europe 
would be doubly wretched ; for their circumstances, m gen 
eral, would oblige them to contract their hand in the 
moment of benevolence. 

Principles are inculcated which, even should they operate 
kindly, would only add to men's misery. Why instil noble 
sentiments into the minds of those whose fixed situation 
in life tells them noble sentiments would not be suffered 
in persons of their condition, and would even be a barrier 
to a livelihood ? Why teach the negro the Christian re- 
ligion ? You only fire him with indignation, and give 
him a weapon with which he may slay you. Why teach 
the Jews toleration, or even common honesty, since every 
nation, except our own, persecutes them for the glory of 
God, and binds them down by restrictions and disabilities? 
The practical part of the Christian religion is founded on 
charity, sympathy, community, equality ; then how absurd 
to teach the Christian duties one day^ which, politically, 
must be counteracted the six following days ? In a coun- 
try like this, where there are so many species of men, there 
should be as many codes of morality as there are condi- 
tions in the State. For the same moral principles imposed 
on all operate unequally : to bind a poor man to the same 
principles you do a rich man, is unjust. All political in- 

^ Vergil, ^ueid, bk. i. 483. 



152 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

stitutions, even the best, operate against the poor and in 
favor of the rich. Law and equity guard against these 
consequences as much as they can; still the law operates 
chiefly for the benefit of the wealthy, and is rather a for- 
tification to the powerful than a protection to tlie weak. 
Fortunately for Europe, custom, prejudice, and education 
dispose her subjects to acquiesce ; otherwise they would 
countervail to a degree which her political systems could 
not tolerate. Adieu. 



LETTER VIII. 



London', September 25. 
The English have not that esteem for the citizens of 
the United States which might naturally be expected from 
their mutual relations ; in truth they are partial to nobody. 
They hate all whom they do not despise, while the latter 
can only render hatred for contempt. Machiavel would 
probably think it a national virtue to hate or despise all 
other people ; but the English have improved on this, — 
they undervalue their own fellow-subjects as much as 
they do foreigners. A poor Scotchman, who is necessi- 
tated to take the main road to England because Sir John 
Sinclair has deprived him of the means of subsistence at 
home, by converting thirty-six small farms into one in 
order to try an experiment in raising sheep,^ is thought 
to be very selfish if he comes to London to shun the curse 
of Scotland. The Irishman, too, tired of sour buttermilk 
and potatoes at home, is considered a poor vagabond 

1 Since writing the above, I observe that Sir John has vindicated this 
measure ; and the Reviewers think the vindication an able one. I hope Sir 
John's tenants are of the same opinion. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 153 

the moment he crosses the Channel in search of roast 
beef and phim-pudding. Had the United States continued 
under the British government we should have been the 
most contemptible of mankind, and the English would 
have been the first to despise us ; at present they regard 
the United States with a sentiment far more honorable 
than that of contempt. 

It is very easy for tliese people to tell you what they do 
not respect ; on the contrary, what they do respect is not 
so evident. They differ wonderfully from the Scotch, in 
one particular: A Scot is partial to his fellow-Scotchmen, 
with very little fondness for Scotland ; an Englishman is 
still more partial to England, with very little fondness for 
Englishmen. One might suppose such a people must be 
insufferably haughty, yet he would greatly mistake their 
character. I have never seen a haughty Englishman. 
They could not live within a mile of one another, were they 
both proud and haughty ; but being only proud, they re- 
spect one another, whereas it is the property of haughti- 
ness to be arrogant. Now the English are not open to 
this charge. He who is haughty will inevitably render 
himself ridiculous to all who despise his airs. I do not 
recollect an instance of having seen an Englishman ridi- 
culous on this account. Hence, though their characters 
are extremely angular, they are rather defensively than 
offensively proud. 

Nor are the English more vain than haughty. They 
dress, conduct, think, as they please, and set everybody at 
defiance. At the same time if they know you esteem them, 
and feel conscious they have not demeaned themselves, none 
can be more happy in possessing your good opinion. This 
carelessness of the opinion of other people shows itself in 
all ranks, especially the lowest. The swing of the arm, the 
incautious step, the rolling of tlie body, tell you plainly that 



154 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

they care for nobody, no, not they ; but this, in part, may 
be owing to an air of majesty which they assume, for 
which the very lowest of tlie English are remarkable. 
Those who are more immediately dependent on others for 
a livelihood, have a mixed character of servility and inde- 
pendence. They cherish the estimation of those on whom 
they are dependent, but seem utterly regardless of the good 
opinion of others. The middle ranks follow their own in- 
clinations, and form their own manners. Hence they make 
a motley picture, diversified from Quaker simplicity to an 
appearance of studied artifice ; but this aj)pearance seldom 
arises from affectation, — they are above that, — but rather 
from whim. Judging at a distance, the nobility appear to 
me to build their characters much more on the populace 
than the populace theirs on the nobility. I am disposed to 
believe it policy and affectation which so frequently in- 
duce the nobility to dress more meanly than many among 
the lower orders, — policy to conciliate ; affectation of 
seeming to attach no consequence to their rank. The 
king is liable to the same remark ; he has much more of 
the external appearance of John Bull than of the Ger- 
man, and is frequently seen not better dressed than one 
of our farmers, with an old hat not worth sixpence. But 
I was speaking of the nationality of this people. 

It is a happy circumstance that this attachment to the 
soil is so deeply rooted in the great mass of the English ; 
it serves a substitute for real patriotism. The rich, in 
every country, if they retain those sentiments for which 
an honest man ought to blush, may be tolerably happy, 
whether they live at Constantinople, Venice, or Madrid ; 
but by far the greater part of every nation in Europe, 
and that part to which 9, nation looks for support in the 
moment of emergency, is fortunately retained under the 
wizard spell of prejudice. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 155 

I will give you one or two instances of this national 
partiality, which have already passed under my notice. 

At an ordinary the other day, I heard two politicians, 
one friendly, the other inimical, to Mr. Pitt's administra- 
tion, advance their different sentiments. You observe I 
do not term one of them Whig and the other Tori/. There 
is, I believe, no such distinction now in England. Dr. 
Johnson was the last Tory. The one contended that " the 
Constitution of 1692 is no longer the boast of Englishmen ; 
that it is a mere prejudice to support longer a form of 
government which has evaporated to theory, and which 
cannot support itself on first principles ; " that " Mr. Pitt 
had told the whole world, that a chancellor of the ex- 
chequer has it in his power to guide the Parliament at 
pleasure, whereby the democratic branch of the Constitu- 
tion is become a dead letter." The other opposed him 
on the grounds of expediency, popular disaffection, and 
the latitude of ministerial prerogative. A few days after- 
ward I observed the former gentleman at the same place, 
and suspecting his every-day politics were assumed, urged 
a conversation, first giving him to understand that I was 
not a subject of his Majesty, in order to touch more nearly 
his national pride. Otherwise it would have been impoli- 
tic ; for the moment an Englishman discovers you to be 
a foreigner, he assumes a different aspect, not in the least 
conciliating. I observed, after a few minutes of discon- 
nected conversation, that " England has, in a great meas- 
ure, lost that proud pre-eminence which she possessed under 
the auspices of Walpole and Chatham." " Old England," 
he replied, " for a century past has been obliged to sup- 
port the dignity of all Europe against the open force and 
secret intrigue of France. The history of the last cen- 
tury, take it all together, is as splendid as that of any 
former ; and, though the late administration beggared the 



156 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

country, the honor of the nation is unsullied, its dignity 
increased, and its spirit unbroken." " But do you think 
an Englishman can rest his heart on the bosom of his 
country now with as much complacency as he might have 
done half a century past?" "Yes, sir, with much more. 
When England is most distressed, then is she most loved." 
" But love for our country ought to proceed from principle, 
not from a mere attachment to its soil. Is your Constitu- 
tion, which has extorted the admiration of your enemies, 
as operative now as it was half a century since ? " " No 
doubt ; for it is better understood and more nicely defined. 
But suppose we had no Constitution at all, to what country 
would an Englishman emigrate ? " 

The other instance occurred over a pot of porter, be- 
tween a French immigrant and a full-blooded Englishman, 
whose pedigree probably has not been crossed since the 
days of Canute. The Frenchman thought porter was too 
gross for those who lead an idle life, and generally ren- 
dered those who drink much of it, dull and stupid. This, 
in the opinion of tbc Englishman, amounted to an attack 
on the national character ; and calling for another pot, like 
another Lord Peter, he endeavored to persuade the French- 
man that in a pot of porter was contained the quintessence 
of the best wines of every climate. The Frenchman 
thought there was not so much vivacity in it as in cham- 
pagne. " True," said John Bull, " there is not so much 
evaporation^ but it has more heart.'''' 

This man might not have crusaded to Jerusalem in be- 
half of religion, but he might have been led double the 
distance in support of barley and hops. 

It is said that two beggars entered into partnership ; 
but on counting their money it was found that one never 
collected so much as the other. The cause of this was a 
matter of speculation between them, especially as the one 



LETTERS FEOxM LONDON. 157 

who collected the least had the best address. At length 
the more successful one asked his fellow, " What terms do 
you use in begging ? " He replied, " That depends on the 
passengers. If they look humane, it is simply, ' God bless 
you;' if they are hard featured, ' for God's sake.' " " Oh," 
said the other, " that explains it ; to-morrow beg for the 
honor of Old England." 

When an Englishman was told, " The French are restor- 
ing their navy," he observed, " I am happy to hear it." 
Being questioned why, he answered sublimely enough, 
" They are working for us." 

Good God ! if a poor devil who has not a foot of land in 
the island, and whose ancestors, for many generations, have 
never owned even a cottage which might serve for a monu- 
ment of their having been members of the social compact, 
— I say, if such a people, who seem to be outlawed from 
God's providence, are so fondly attached to a country 
which affords them only an abstract and indefinite senti- 
ment of affection, I can easily believe what is reported of 
the Spartan women, who, when their children survived 
the battle of Leuctra, put on mourning, while the mothers 
of those who were slain, went in procession to the temple, 
and returned thanks to the gods. What sort of characters 
will the citizens of the United States display in the time 
of national emergency, possessing as they do a practical 
form of government which Plato dared only contemplate, 
and which the sanguine imagination of Rousseau never 
led him to hope for ! Adieu. 



158 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER IX. 

London, October 15. 

The following letter will be composed of a variety of 
particulars, which may be worthy the notice of a citizen of 
the United States. 

The most humorous sight which I have seen was an Eng- 
lish funeral, performed in the most fashionable manner ; 
for, you must know, they perform funerals here. An un- 
dertaker's sign exhibits these words : " Funerals per- 
formed." The first funeral I saw was such a novelty, I 
followed it a short distance, not knowing what it was ; 
and as my habit is to question every one whom I think 
can give me any information, I asked an honest fellow 
"what the show was. He seemed a little offended, but 
directly replied, " You may know, one day, if you do not 
come to the gallows." This man, like Chatham, was 
" original and unaccommodating." Observing that I was 
surprised at his answer, and feeling perhaps a little mor- 
tified, he asked, "Do you live in London?" I told him 
I had just come. " Well, but people die sometimes in 
your town." By this I disco\^red that the performance 
was a funeral. The plumes being white (the sign of a 
virgin) instead of black, which is the more usual color, 
accounts for my ignorance. Had I been in Pekin, I should 
have expected a white funeral, but was not prepared to see 
one in London. 

When a rich man dies, an undertaker, or fashionable 
performer, is ordered, who employs equipages drawn by 
horses, which I mistook for baggage wagons, in one of 
which he puts the body, while several hired men, dressed 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 159 

fantastically in black, walk on either side, with not more 
unconcern than would be expected. Two men on horseback 
precede the wagon which contains the body ; those which 
follow display the plumes, the sight of which made me so 
merry. The mourners follow in coaches. I never until 
now understood that line in Young, — 

" Nor ends with life, but nods in sable plumes." 

Though, with due deference to Young, I think this is rather 
man's vanity than his love of fame ; for no mortal can 
be so weak as to expect personal fame from a pompous 
funeral. 

After having witnessed an English funeral, you would 
not think those lines of Pope exaggerated, in which he 
represents a dying beauty in hysterics lest she should be 
laid out in woollen, and supposes her to call Betty, to 
" give her cheek a little red " lest she should appear ugly 
in her coffin. 

I believe that funeral processions in New England are 
conducted much in the same manner as they were in 
ancient Rome. Livy says it was reported that on the 
death of Appius Claudius, in the year of Rome 284, the 
people assembled at his house to swell the funeral proces- 
sion. " Et exsequias frequens celebravit." 

The Jews are worthy of particular notice. I have be- 
stowed not a little reflection on this miserable race, and 
feel disposed to speak a word in their favor. If we con- 
template their situation, even in England, where they are 
less persecuted than in any other country except the 
United States, we shall find them indirectly driven to prey 
on the public, and compelled by their disabilities to a con- 
tinual antagonism. Eligible to no office, incapable of 
holding land, or even of possessing a house, with the ad- 
ditional hardship of being despised, like the pariah class 



IGO LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

of India, they are absolutely proscribed from the social 
compact, and reduced to a state worse than that of simple 
Nature ; for in opening their eyes to their condition, they 
find nothing on which to rest but the canopy of heaven. 
Now, I would appeal to Tully's Offices, or even to Dr. 
Johnson, if a man thus conditioned by force insiduously 
legalized, ought to be honest ; and whether a man thus cir- 
cumstanced would not have a moral right to repel hostility 
by every means in his power. Under such restrictions can 
a Jew be expected to philanthropize, or, in the moment of 
benevolence, can his heart wander out of the bounds of 
his own nation, when early sentiments have necessarily 
been contaminated by all the arts of low commerce to 
which his nation is reduced ? A benevolent Hebrew would 
be a monster. Ilencc a Jew's passion cannot be reputa- 
tion of any kind, but must be the love of money. There- 
fore Shakspeare's imaginary Shylock is not exactly true 
to Nature. A Jew in such a case would have accepted all 
the money he could have extorted, and have foregone his 
revenge. Yet tliis imaginary Shylock has prejudiced thou- 
sands of Christians who never saw a Jew, against the 
whole tribe of Israel ; while 'those very Christians who 
read the story of a certain duke who demanded a large 
sum of money from a Jew, and extorted four of his teeth 
before the money was paid, are greatly surprised at the 
Jew's obstinacy. In short, the Jews owe the Christians 
nothing but hatred and revenge, whether they revert back 
to former times or regard the present. 

The operation of those disabilities and restrictions which 
the Christian imposes on the Jew is just what ought to be 
expected. Is a house on fire, the Jew is happy to see it ; 
the old nails afford a speculation. Crimes, for aught he 
cares, may multiply with impunity ; he is the last person 
to inform. "Who ever heard of a Jew informer ? The 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 161 

more thieves, the more distress, the more boundless ex- 
travagance, the fairer the prospect ; to him, private vices 
are public benefits. Is the nation ruined? — he has noth- 
ing to lament, having no tie, no amor patrice, no attachment ; 
but he is not quite ready to leave the country. A nation in 
ruins is a Jew fair. 

If the Jews were more disposed to agriculture, they 
might find in the United States a resting place ; and not 
withstanding their religion, they might flourish as well 
there as at Jerusalem or on the more favorite banks of 
the Jordan. Adieu. 



LETTER X. 



LoNDOx, October 30. 

I HAVE lately made a most important discovery which 
has disclosed one of the great secrets of English rank. 
You in the United States, knowing nothing of this, will 
consider the following authentic history of rank a singular 
curiosity. 

They have confined the several species of man in this 
country within such definite limits that the moment they 
hear a knocking at their doors they can tell you whether 
it is the knock of a servant, a postman, a milkman, a half 
or whole gentleman, a very great gentleman, a knight, or 
a nobleman. 

A servant is bound to lift the knocker once ; should he 
usurp a nobleman's knock he would hazard his situation. 
A postman knocks twice, very loudly. A milkman knocks 
once, at the same time sending forth an artificial noise, 
not unlike the yell of an American Indian. A mere gen- 
tleman usually knocks three times, moderately. A terrible 

11 



162 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

fellow feels authorized to knock thrice, very loudly, gen- 
erally adding two or three faint knocks, which seem 
to run into each other ; but there is considerable art in 
doing this elegantly, therefore it is not always attempted. 
A stranger who should venture on an imitation would 
immediately be taken for an upstart. A knight pre- 
sumes to give a double knock ; that is, six raps, with a 
few faint ones at the end. I have not yet learned the 
various peculiarities which distinguish the degrees be- 
tween the baronet and the nobleman ; but this I know 
too well, that a nobleman, at any time of night, is al- 
lowed to knock so long and loud that the whole neigh- 
borhood is frequently disturbed ; and although fifty people 
may be deprived of their night's rest, there is no redress 
at law or at equity. Nor have I learned how long and 
loud a prince of the blood presumes to knock, though 
doubtless he might knock an )iour or two, by way of 
distinction. 

You may hold your sides if you please, but I assure you 
I am perfectly serious. These people are so tenacious of 
this prerogative that a true-blooded Englishman goes near 
to think it a part of British liberty. Indeed, I am con- 
vinced I could place certain Englishmen in a situation in 
which, rather than knock at a door but once, they would 
fight a duel every day in the week. Good heaven, how 
would a fine gentleman appear, if obliged to knock but 
once at the door of a fashionable lady to whose party he 
had been invited, while, at the same moment, a numljcr of 
his every-day friends passing by might observe the circum- 
stance ! I cannot conceive of a more distressing occur- 
rence. The moment he entered the room, the eyes of the 
whole company would be turned on him. He would believe 
liimsclf disgraced forever ; he would feel himself anni- 
hilated, for all his imaginary consequence, without which 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 163 

an Englishman feels himself to be nothing, would have 
forsaken him. 

You may imagine it a very easy matter to pass from the 
simple rap of the servant to that of the nobleman ; but 
let me inform you this little monosyllable stands in the 
place of Alpine mountains, which neither vinegar ^ nor 
valor can pass. Hercules and Theseus, those vagabond 
but respectable bullies, who governed by personal strength 
instead of a standing army, would have hesitated an enter> 
prise against these raps. They have, by prescription, risen 
nearly to the dignity of common law, of which strangers as 
well as natives are bound to take notice. I was lately 
placed in a pleasant position through ignorance of this. 
Soon after my arrival, I received an invitation to dine with 
a gentleman ; and in my economical way, with the greatest 
simplicity, I gave one reasonable rap. After a considerable 
time a servant opened the door, and asked me what I 

wanted ! I told him Mr. . He replied, " My master 

has company, but I will see if he can be spoken with." In 

the mean time I was left in the entry. Presently Mr. 

came, who, a little mortified, began to reprove the servant ; 
but it appeared in the sequel he was perfectly right, for on 

telling Mr. " I knocked but once," he burst into a 

laugh, and said he would explain that at dinner. 

Should an honest fellow, ignorant of the importance of 
these raps, come to London in search of a place, and un- 
fortunately knock at a gentleman's door after the manner 
of a nobleman, it might prejudice him as much as a 
prayer-book once prejudiced a certain person in Connec- 
ticut. The anecdote is this : — 

A young adventurer, educated Church-of-England-wise., 
on going forth to seek his fortune, very naturally put his 

^ Hannibal is said to have employed vinegar in liis passage through the 
Alps. 



164 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

prayer-book in his pocket. Wandering within the precincts 
of Connecticut, he offered his services to a farmer, who, 
after asking him a thousand questions, gave him employ- 
ment ; but in the evening, the unlucky prayer-book being 
discovered, he fairly turned the poor wight out-of-doors to 
get a lodging where he could. You know it was said that 
the Connecticut " Blue Laws " made it death for a priest, 
meaning a clergyman of the Church of England, to be 
found within that State. Thank heaven, those days are 
passed. " God, liberty, and toleration," whether a man 
prefers a prayer-book to the missal, or the kuran to a 
prayer-book, or a single rap at a door to the noise of a 
dozen. Adieu. 

N. B. — You must keep this letter a profound secret, as 
we have certain gentlemen on our side of the Atlantic who 
would, in imitation of the noblemen here, disturb their 
neighbors. 



LETTER XI. 



London, November 19. 

I WAS in Rosemary Lane yesterday ; in other words, at 
Rag Fair. The shop-keepers take the liberty of addressing 
every one who passes, and not infrequently come into the 
street, take you by the arm and lead you, half forcibly, 
into their shops. Those who are most clever, that is, 
most troublesome to passengers, are called barkers. I was 
accosted not less than fifteen times in passing through 
Rosemary Lane. Telling one I was in no want of old 
clothes, " Then," said he, as though he thought I meant to 
be witty, " you have a wardrobe to dispose of." I asked 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 165 

another what he saw in my appearance which led him to 
suspect I wanted to purchase old clothes. " Oh," said he, 
" we don't judge by appearances here ; many a man comes 
into Rosemary Lane to change his dress : some go away 
better, but most, worse dressed." A third asked me to 
walk into his shop if only to see an assortment, which 
for variety was not to be equalled in London. Another 
of the trade, who was standing by, observed, he was sure I 
could not ask for an article which he could not produce. 
After thinking a moment what would be least likely to 
find its way from New England to Rag Fair, I asked for a 
pair of Cape Cod trousers. " Ah," said the other, " you 
never knew a Cape Cod man to sell his trousers." 

I then asked the other, " How do you happen to know so 
much about me ? " " Why, there is not a man in Rosemary 
Lane who does not know that you came from New Eng- 
land." " They must be extremely clever ^ in their way, to 
distinguish so quickly those who speak the same language, 
have the same complexion, and dress like you." "■ It looks 
a little like instinct, to be sure ; but the people in this busi- 
ness are, perhaps, the most clever of any in the world." 
" Then the history of Rag Fair must be very entertaining, 
and would much assist one in learning a little of low life." 
" Why, yes, it is a great school ; the stock exchange affords 
nothing equal to it, whether you wish to overreach your 
fellow, or to become acquainted with the sad vicissitudes 
to which trade is liable. Here are bankruptcies, sometimes 
not less unexpected than those which happen at the Royal 
Exchange ; and the bankrupt as frequently rises again in 
sudden importance, to the surprise of the whole Fair." 
" You must have an abundance of anecdotes respecting 

1 " Clever," in New England, means honest, conscientious; but we do not 
use the word as defined in the dictionaries Nor is it used here exactly in 
its proper sense : a very clever fellow nobody will trust 



166 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

the knowing ones and the flats, of those who have triumphed 
over simplicity, anil of those who have come to London in 
a wagon. ^ Pray give us an instance how far a knowing 
one is capable of outwitting a man of common caution." 
" Why there is a story sometimes mentioned at the Fair 
that Sir Matthew Hale, in passing through Rosemary Lane, 
was made a prize of by a shopman, who, from Sir Matthew's 
slovenly appearance ^ and threadbare coat, thought him a 
good speculation. The shojjman led him by the arm up- 
stairs into a dark room, and told him he was resolved to 
sell him a new coat, for his was no longer decent. Sir 
Matthew submitted to try on several coats, but insisted no 
one would fit him, and at length was going away without 
l)urchasing, when the clothesman said he had one more 
which he was sure would fit him, and brought one which 
Sir Matthew said fitted him as well as his old one ; the 
difference between them being paid. Sir Matthew went 
away." "Well, where is the wit of all this?" "Why, 
Sir Matthew Avore the same coat away that he wore in." 
" But this is an old story, and its authenticity rather doubt- 
ful ; tell me one tliat happened lately." " I can give you 
an instance which lately occurred within my own notice, of 
a man who in broad daylight bought his old hat twice for 
a new one." " How was that done ? " "A Jew went on 
board a ship just arrived, and purchased among other 
things an old hat ; but it being only weatherworn, he soon 
put a new gloss on it, and within a day or two carried it 
with several others on board the ship, and sold it to the 
same man of whom he bought it, for it fitted him exactly. 
Soon after, the polish wearing off, he discovered that it 



^ A wagon-load of fools is said to come to Londou every day. 

2 It is hardly necessary to mention the anecdote of Sir Matthew's being 
taken up by a press-gang and carried on board a tender, whence he was 
obliged to write to the Secretary of the Navy before he was liberated. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 167 

was the old hat. In due time the Jew went on board 
again, and after receiving very meekly all the abuse which 
was offered, repurchased the hat. Fortunately it had a^ 
very broad brim ; he cut it smaller, put it into another 
shape, gave it a new gloss, and fitted it a second time 
on tlie same head." 

Just as he finished this story a boy, in appearance not 
more than ten years of age, passed by, with as many old 
clothes slung over his back as he could carry. " Do you 
see that little Jew ? " said the man ; " by the time he is 
twenty he will be the envy of everybody. He did an ex- 
ploit last week which will not soon be forgotten. The 
servants of a gentleman at the west end of the town had 
sold a quantity of their master's cast-off clothes to a cer- 
tain Jew with whom that boy was acquainted. The pur- 
chase coming to his knowledge, he bought them of his 
friend, and the next morning with the clothes slung over 
his back he proceeded to the gentleman's house, and pacing 

to and fro before the door, began to bawl ' Mr. 's old 

clothes to sell.' The servants, hearing their master's name 
repeated, came to the door, and after discovering the Jew's 
design, found it expedient to buy back the clothes at his 
own price." " Ay, there was some wit in this ; but any 
one in the trade might have newly glossed an old hat, or 
cut a broad brim narrower." " No," said he, " though it 
is very easy to overreach the same man twice, yet to de- 
ceive him twice in the same article belongs only to Rag 
Fair." 

" Pray, do you never buy bad bargains, and do you know 
just how long a coat has been worn ? " " Yes, we can 
generally tell within an hour ; and not only how long 
worn, but the style of life of the wearer. This coat was 
an auctioneer's, who was left handed. You see, though 
apparently a new coat, it is quite threadbare under the 



168 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

left arm ; when worn most at the back, that is tlie mark 
of a gentleman ; if at the left elbow and at the right cuff, 
of an author ; if at the shoulder, of a lounger ; if at the 
pockets, it is a sign of a merchant, stockjobber, or attor- 
ney." " How do you judge of small clothes ? " " We can 
speak more positively of them. The profession is gener- 
ally found under the hip ; and if the former owner had 
no profession, it is easily ascertained whether he was se- 
date or restless, whether his gait was long or short. Here 
was a poor fellow who led a very unhappy life ; sec, his 
breeches are worn equally on both knees, in the scat, and 
behind, and are nearly threadbare, though they could not 
have been worn more than three weeks. Here was one 
who had the gout to a cruel degree." " But," said I, " can 
you conscientiously sell these clothes for new, even if you 
find a purchaser ? They would be sent back to Rag Fair 
the next day." " And why," said he, " should this be the 
only honest trade in London ? In these times a poor man 
cannot be honest." Adieu. 



LETTER XII. 



London, November 27. 

The observations which I shall make in this letter will 
necessarily be invidious ; yet as they will conduce to a 
knowledge of the English system, I shall not withhold 
them. 

I seem to have found in this country a new religion, so 
different is its aspect from the religion that prevails in 
New England. Whenever religion degenerates into cere- 
mony or becomes the crooked way of worldly ambition, it 
begets a mocking spirit in the profane and the feeling of 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 169 

indifference in the more serious. The priest who, instead 
of supporting the Cross of Christ, thinks it sufficient to 
wear a cross on the back of his robe, or he who in the 
moment of a "nolo episcopari" accepts a bishopric, must ex- 
pect to meet with that ridicule to which he is liable. " Whip 
me " those delicate saints who have exchanged the coarse 
garments of the apostles for the courtly dress of the Phari- 
sees ; who, instead of challenging credit for the Gospel by 
humility, moderation, and meekness, resort to the pen. 
Christ never designed that his religion should be supported 
by Aristotle's Logic or by Euclid's Elements. The Gos- 
pel is an appeal to the heart ; its operation is on the life, 
and its sanction is at the hour of death. All the arguments 
which depth of research and acuteness of mind can bring, 
weigh not against my disbelief, if he who brings them in- 
habits a palace and gains another tithe by my conversion. 
Yet I may be in an error. Our Saviour, you know, will at 
his second coming be preceded by the sound of the trum- 
pet, and will come in great glory. Now, to whom should 
he come, if not to the heads of his church ? Consequently, 
his reception ought to be equal to the occasion. He tells 
you that his followers shall inherit the earth ; hence mag- 
nificent state will bo evidence of heirship. But then Saint 
Peter, when (as it is claimed) he delivered the key to the 
bishop of Rome, ought to have told this, which would have 
secured his Holiness, the college of Cardinals, and the 
Lords Spiritual from much profane ridicule. 

The Christian religion as it is maintained in England 
might induce a stranger to believe it to be a political in- 
stitution ; that its duties are defined by act of Parlia- 
ment ; and that the clergy are officers paid for carrying 
the statute into effect. No matter whether there be an 
audience or not, the clergyman feels it his duty to perform 
all the sacred offices ; and it is still " dearly beloved 



170 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

brethren," though not a dearly beloved brother be present. 
I was lately in a church at Chcapside in which there were 
but eleven persons, except some little charity boys who 
sung. Most of these eleven, I suspect, were strangers like 
myself. However, I ought to observe it was midsummer, 
and that the parishioners were probably gone into the 
country to take their pleasure. 

The Church of England is extremely jealous of her dis- 
sentiug brethren ; and she ought to be so. The ease, 
pomp, and magnificence of the one suffers a silent repri- 
mand from the comparative simplicity and assiduity of 
the other. Ilcnce the legislature should endeavor as 
much as possible to divest religion of its asperities, and 
connect it with worldly pleasure. To render it a vital 
principle, they should, observing a little decency, make it 
consistent with and a handmaid of worldly interest. 
Under such advantages the Church of England must 
flourish, whatever may become of the Church of Christ. 

That the legislature has i)artially adopted this plan you 
will perceive by turning to Blackstone's Commentaries. ^ 
He observes : " The keeping one day in the seven holy, as 
a time of relaxation and refreshment as well as for public 
worship, is of admirable service to a State, considered 
merely as a civil institution. It humanizes, by the help of 
conversation and society, the manners of the lower classes, 
which would otherwise degenerate into a sordid ferocity and 
savage selfishness ^ of spirit." Then he quotes the substance 
of a statute of 1 Charles the First : " No persons shall as- 
semble out of their own parishes for any sport whatever, 
upon this day [Sunday], nor in their parishes shall use any 
bull or bear baiting, interludes, plays, or other milaivful ex- 
ercises or pastimes, on pain that every offender shall pay 

1 Bk. iv. chap. iv. § 9. 

2 Savages are the least selfish of all men- 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 171 

three shillings and four pence to the poor. This statute 
does not prohibit but rather impliedly allows, any innocent 
recreation or amusement within their respective parishes, 
even on the Lord's day, after divine service is over." 

The object of this statute was, I suspect, to turn Sunday 
into a holiday, and thereby divert the lower classes from 
the principles of the dissenters ; especially as there is 
no accommodation for poor people in the established 
churches. 

No wonder the Christian religion shows so fair an aspect 
in the United States, for it does not stand there on the 
stilts of politics. No establishment, no Thirty-nine Arti- 
cles, no assistance from statute law, and very little legis- 
lative interference impede its course. Indeed, Rhode 
Island and some few other States do not mention the 
Cliristian religion in their Constitutions. I had occasion, 
some time since, to mention this to an English gentleman, 
and he seriously asked if there were any churches in those 
States ! That the Christian religion in Europe has so 
successfully withstood the oppressions which it has under- 
gone from its dear friends and most humble followers, 
ought to excite the surprise of every one, and affords it, 
in my opinion, a more respectable sanction than it receives, 
from having resisted the all-unhinging and cool-blooded 
Hume, the indefatigable and diversified assaults of Voltaire, 
or the more insidious and undermining attempts of Gibbon. 
These great men, with many others, have pecked a little 
cement from the edifice, but have not injured the build- 
ing; they have hurled a pebble at the citadel, but have not 
effected a breach. 

I think it well worthy of notice that the Gospel, when 
first published, had nothing to fear but the temporal power, 
and flourished in spite of the civil authority. Since the 
time of Constantino it has had nothina: to fear but the 



172 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

temporal power of its friends, and it still flourishes not- 
withstanding ; a fair proof that if left entirely to its own 
influence on the heart, it is capable of going alone, and 
stands in no need of a great cradle and Thirty-nine leading 
strings. 

In passing through Smithfield the other morning, I could 
not cease blessing the spirit of toleration which, in favor 
of humanity, has surpassed the most sanguine expectations 
of the wisest men of former days. Their inferences, it 
appears, were drawn from persecution rather than from 
any experience of toleration. They reasoned that because 
persecution did not harmonize the people, unlimited tolera- 
tion^ would only induce mutual war. It has remained for 
us to prove that it was entirely owing to the temporal 
power that religion has exhibited such an unaccommo- 
dating spirit. For the honor of the United States let me 
observe that the spirit of toleration is there so transcend- 
antly liberal that the whole of the five hundred and fifty- 
six sects might unite in any of our cities, notwithstanding 
New England once made the gross blunder of mistaking 
Quakers for scapegoats and paschal lambs — so operative is 
the Federal Constitution on a species of derangement which 
once knew no remedy but bulls, ropes, and fagots. In New 
England, the Christian may worship his Trinity, the deist 
his one God, and the atheist, if he please, the fortuitous 
concurrence of atoms. The Roman Catholic may quietly 
enjoy his purgatory, his seven sacraments, and transub- 
stantiation. The Mahometan may publicly assert his kuran 
to be of greater authority than the Bible, and prove his 
position from the pulpit of his mosque. The Persian may 

1 Our country has proved the contrary ; the many religions in the United 
States have disclosed a new and godlike trait in human character. Far 
from embittering the dispositions of the various sects, difference of sentiment 
excites to mutual tolerance and virtuous emulation. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 173 

adore the sun, the heathen his idols, and the Indian the 
Devil ; while the Manichean, who is not content with one 
great First Cause, is allowed two gods. 

A philosopher cannot contemplate this picture without 
rapture ; for he is necessarily carried back to those days 
of religious accommodation when the conquerors of the 
world plundered the gods of their enemies, — not to de- 
stroy them, but to give them a more respectable station at 
Rome. What would be his surprise when informed that 
each individual member of these five hundred and fifty-six 
sects is eligible not only to all the subordinate offices of 
government, but even to the Presidency ! The Federal 
Constitution is pervaded by this spirit, but some of the 
State governments are not quite so liberal. 

The good sense of the clergy of the United States will 
lead them to favor the most unlimited toleration ; for if 
there ever should be an Established Church, the great body 
of the clergy would sink in the same degree in which a 
few of the most intriguing and ambitious were exalted. 
This is the case in England, where thousands of poor 
devils are bound to a system which subjects them to the 
contempt of their co-religionists. 

This letter is already sufficiently long, therefore 

Adieu. 



LETTER XIII. 



London, December 16. 

At present, I have only a few observations to make ; so 
I shall fill up this letter with any matter that occurs. 

Nothing has afforded me more amusement than a certain 
class of Emrlishmen. The class to which I refer is com- 



174 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

posed of those who have unexpectedly come to wealth, 
some few of those who are earnestly in pursuit of fortune 
and whose affairs are flourishing, but principally of those 
who have spent their fortunes, and yet are resolved to sup- 
port appearances. 

These characters sport themselves before the public on 
all occasions, and are as tenacious of the title of " gentle- 
man " as though they suspected that every one was about 
to dispute the point with them. When they appear in 
public they do not seem to observe anybody, yet they indi- 
rectly tell you that they themselves arc the only persons in 
the street. Still there is a certain something in their de- 
meanor which courts attention, as though they said, " Look 
at me." ]klany of them appear to be in a pillory, owing to 
the quantity of their cravats, and to the two Avings of their 
shirt-collar, for fear of disarranging which, thoy are obliged 
to turn their whole bodies with their heads ; hence if they 
wish to view the whole horizon, they are obliged to make 
several right angles. One eye, if it were fixed in their 
foreheads, would serve these gentlemen for all })urj)oses. 

Of the various expedients of raising money to which 
Mr. Pitt lias resorted, that of laying a tax on strutting 
would not have been the most unsuccessful. For the gen- 
erality of the English who attach any consequence to them- 
selves, are addicted to this affected manner of walking. 
Some of these gentlemen, you might imagine, must meet 
with the saddest accidents ; for they resolutely proceed 
straight forward, in defiance of all opposition, whether 
from wheelbarrows and posts, or from persons of their 
own description who are approaching with an air equally 
determined. Yet, I know not how it happens, they meet 
with few serious misfortunes, though I have seen a col- 
lision between two persons, when it was necessary for each, 
before they could pass, to make an angle of forty-five 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 175 

degrees. But these gentlemen are liable to another acci- 
dent, much more serious than a flesh wound. In the rainy 
seasons the square stones on the way-side sometimes be- 
come loose ; and mischievous boys remove the earth from 
under them, balance them on props, and form what they 
inhumanly call beau traps. Now, a man who never lowers 
his eyes is very likely to fall into these insidious snares. 

Why should the generality of mankind differ so much in 
their demeanor ? The scholar, the soldier, the sailor, and 
some other persons have professional peculiarities ; but the 
great body of the people in a free country ought to have 
that ingenuous carriage which bespeaks a conscious dig- 
nity, equally distant from insolence and servility. It is 
scarcely expected in England that a poor man should have 
the principle of fixed virtue ; and if one in authority ne- 
glects the opportunity of robbing the public, that is 
accounted a rare effort of virtue, and worthy of a monu- 
ment ; on the other hand, if one of the lowest class should 
by mistake, in the dark, receive a guinea instead of a 
shilling and return it the next morning, it is matter for 
the public papers. Carere vitio, habetur pro virtute.^ 

The lowest class, both men and women, have a careless, 
undefined, abandoned carriage, which indicates their con- 
sciousness of being little better than outlaws from the 
community ; yet they are far from being destitute of gen- 
erous feelings, though in appearance they have not even 
the outward show of humanity. 

. The character of the English is more complex than that 
of any other people in Europe. I shall in some future 
letter take occasion to inquire into the cause of this, 
otherwise one is in danger of knowing this people only by 
halves. A part of their character might induce you to 

1 Virtus est vitiiim fugere, et sapientia prima stultitia caruisse. — Horat. 
Epist. i. 1,41. 



176 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

imagine tliem a feeble, inefficient, secondary race of men ; 
but you would be greatly mistaken. The English are never 
greater than on those occasions when most men would 
despair. They are restless under uncertainty, fearful from 
contingency, undone from anticipation ; but mark out the 
time when, with its duration, and the place where, let the 
sum total of what they are required to endure be precisely 
calculated, connect these circumstances with the honor of 
Old England, and they are equal to all occasions. They 
submit to phantoms of their own creation, but can bear 
real misfortune with complacency. 

I have imagined, I know not with what degree of truth, 
that the English, more than any other people, require some 
object of attention, without which they seem to stagnate. 
The Spaniard, if he have nothing to do, will swing in his 
hammock until he is weary, and after that will swing him- 
self to rest. The Dutchman will sit in a happy vacancy 
until some vocation arouses him. The Frenchman is in no 
hurry to force himself on an opportunity, but is ready to 
embrace it when offered ; and in the mean time, he is con- 
tent to give himself up to levity. Not so the Englishman ; 
his mind preys on itself in that state of calmness which 
to some is the moment of most perfect beatitude. That 
happy languor which is the repose of the soul sinks his 
heart to despondency. "Wake him to activity, agitate 
him, arouse him even to desperation, but do not expect to 
soothe him with the happy leisure or the monotonous pan- 
egyric of the blessed. Otherwise, how can you account for 
it that a man Avho from an humble situation and humbler 
prospects should raise himself to great fortune, gaining 
the proudest name of all his contemporaries, and display- 
ing a readiness of expediency which in times of the utmost 
difficulty propped, restored, and established a tottering 
empire, should in the prime of life, after retiring with 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 177 

all that wealth and honor could confer, hang himself? 
Such a man was Robert Lord Clive. 

But this is an extreme case, and ought not to be ex- 
tended beyond an individual illustration, like that of the 
Roman in the reign of Nero who came to a resolution to 
starve himself, and persisted in his design notwithstanding 
the urgent request of Nero to the contrary, with whom he 
was on terms of intimacy ; for Nero, tender of his own 
reputation, observed, " My enemies would attribute the 
secret cause of my friend's death to myself." 

The entire history of this people proves them to be a 
singular compound of strength and weakness. They are 
utterly incapable of enjoying what their valor has so fre- 
quently accomplished, and they do not know how to exert 
their strength for any personal advantage. If main force 
only be requisite, they can wield the club of Theseus, and 
like him bend the stoutest tree of the forest, but they can- 
not, like Theseus, follow Ariadne's clew through the laby- 
rinth. After having conquered their enemies by force of 
arms, they have generally in their turn been conquered by 
force of treaty. Nothing more strongly marks the do- 
mestic character of this people than their famous conduct 
at the close of the Revolution of 1688. Tliey had then a 
fine opportunity of making the best possible bargain for 
themselves with their rulers ; but by a most stupid con- 
tract, they conveyed themselves and their posterity to the 
House of Hanover. Mr. Burke seriondy advanced the 
same thing, which not a little surprised the nation, who 
for more than a century had fancied themselves free. I 
believe it is not known in England that De Lolme, who 
wrote without reference to party, has established the same 
point in his essay on the Constitution of England. 

Adief, 

12 



178 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER XIV. 

London, Decem'ber 26. 

The English who visit the United States complain of the 
lack of attention from those who wait on them. For my 
part I am disposed to complain, but for a very different 
reason. I am even incommoded and not infrequently dis- 
concerted by being so officiously attended as one is obliged 
to be by the English servants. I had supposed, when in 
the United States, that the lowest classes of the English 
ought naturally to be the most insolent and unaccommo- 
dating of all beings. Enjoying under the Constitution the 
same degree of liberty with the higher orders, and yet in 
fact retained eternally in a situation from which no 
docility of nature and no impulse of ambition can redeem 
them, they ought to possess the ferocity of the savage, 
without his generous sentiments. 

Matthew Prior is the only Englishman that I recollect 
who ever burst the fetters of servitude and rose to emi- 
nence. This instance is not a fair one. Prior was a vine 
which must forever have run on the ground, had he not 
met with a great man around whom to twine. Prior ex- 
hibited afterward, it is true, abilities of the first order ; but 
had he not been a poet and fond of the writings of Horace, 
his abilities would only have rendered him a worse servant. 

It was thought a wonderful occurrence that Philip York 
should become Lord Chancellor Hardwicke ; yet Philip 
York had in the early part of his life as great advantages 
as the sons of noblemen usually enjoy. What would an 
Englishman say, were he told that the speaker of the 
House of Representatives of the United States was born in 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 179 

Scotland, and not many years since sold himself for his 
passage, and redeemed himself by manual labor ? 

What do you imagine is the tie which restrains the Eng- 
lish servants in this ready servility to their masters ? You 
observe I use the terms servants and masters. A servant is 
not offended if you ask him where his master is. It is but 
a day or two since a man forty years old told me if I 
would wait a moment his master would be at home. Pres- 
ently a young man appeared. " That," said the servant, 
" is my master." Should one ask a person in the United 
States where his master is, he would doubtless meet with a 
rough reply ; for in truth there are no such titles in the 
United States as master and servant. I will now tell you 
the reason why the English make such excellent servants : 
They have three things before their eyes, — servitude for 
life. Botany Bay, and the gallows. Servitude they most com- 
monly esteem the least of tlie three evils ; yet even this 
has its terrors, for if masters dismiss servants without a 
character, they are undone. Their habits and education, 
or rather want of education, rendering them useless, they 
are forced to enter the lowest class of that great body of 
men who live at the public expense. 

The English complain of their servants, and think them 
the most worthless beings on earth. So do I ; but if they 
had to deal with the generality of our servants, they would 
soon change their tone, or what is more likely, change 
places with them. 

Voltaire says that the vulgar in England, less than in 
any other country in the world, fashion their manners 
after those of the nobility. This ought to excite a smile. 
Should one of the common people here endeavor to imitate 
a nobleman, his impudence would either mark him for an 
idiot or exclude him from all employment. 

The servants in England are not exactly what they ought 



180 LETTEES FROM LONDON. 

to be. "Where the fathers and sons for many generations 
are likely to be servants during their lives, it is of great 
consequence that they should possess as little as possible 
the dress, manners, or feelings of men. They should be 
bred in the most profound ignorance, and be taught from 
their infancy to consider themselves a distinct species. 
To impress this more deeply, they should be disfigured as 
much as may be consistent with their usefulness ; both of 
their ears might be spared, so might their noses. It might 
injure their health to ])aint them, but it is a pity that a 
dyestuff could not be invented, through which perspira- 
tion might pass. In short, they should in all respects 
be treated like beasts of burden, — though I hardly go so 
far as Cato the Censor, who advises that when servants 
are grown old and infirm they be sold. 

The surprising difference which is observable between 
the English servants and our own is not entirely owing to 
the influence which the Federal Constitution has on the 
character of the American servant. The English servant 
is chained to a servitude which in many respects is little 
removed from helotism. He has no imagination, no ambi- 
tion : a holiday or a debauch bounds his hopes, and fully 
gratifies his wishes. In the United States, on the contrary, 
a servant's imagination is ever on the wing ; he calculates 
even to a day, and that day not distant, when he shall be 
as independent as the person whom he serves. He in- 
dulges the most flattering prospects, feels himself already a 
freeman, and wanders in his fancy through scenes of 
future life, or reposes from labor in the cool of his own 
shade. As he approaches personal independence, he ex- 
pects deference from his master and from his fellow- 
countrymen ; while his master, foreseeing how soon his 
servant may be his equal, is disposed to facilitate the ap- 
proaching equality. Hence the American servant shows 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 181 

nothing of that humble, debasing demeanor which is so 
apparent in the English servant. 

I confess the majestic carriage of our servants would 
revolt the feelings of one accustomed to travel the Bath 
road ; for he might be in danger of starving before he 
could learn the language of the country. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XV. 



London, Januaiy 17, 1803. 

I WAS at the theatre last evening, where I saw their 
Majesties with three of the princesses. Nunc scio quid 
sint Rex et Regina. They all behaved with great defer- 
ence to the spectators, and the queen in particular seemed 
happy. We half-civilized folk in the United States can 
form no conception of the solemn pomp, the dignified im- 
portance and sacred reverence which accompany these 
awful exhibitions of royalty. On such happy occasions, 
the cold feelings of our people would look like pointed 
disaffection. 

The box in which their Majesties sat was fitted up on 
purpose, while the trappings reminded one of the style of 
Persian monarchs. How an English courtier would have 
laughed on seeing the late President and his wife, without 
a guard, without attendants, without any peculiarity to 
distinguish them from the other citizens, take their scats 
in the theatre at Boston ! 

As soon as their Majesties appeared in the front of 
their box a tumult of applause began, which, had it been 
cordial, must have been really pleasing. As all this was 



182 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

nothing to me, I sunk into a revery, and thought of Tima- 
goras the Athenian. After the noise was over their Majesties 
sat down, and the favorite song "• God save great George 
our King," ^ was sung several times by the whole j^osse 
theatri. This completed the royal reception. When the 
entertainments were concluded, the same solemnities fin- 
ished the evening. 

The king is a fine, healthy -looking man, and if he do 
not die of apoplexy, " is good for fifteen or twenty years," 
as the life insurers say. He wore a sort of half wig, so I 
could not discover whether hard times had caused his hair 
|ii-ematurely to turn gray. Poor man ! I could not but 
pity him, for it is not altogether his fault that he has 
fallen into so many bad hands. He made constant use of 
an opera glass ; it is a royal custom, I suppose, to see 
with artificial eyes. 

If tlic countenance is indicative of the disposition, his 
Majesty has a very good heart ; and he has more intellect 
than you would judge from his likeness on the coin. On 
the whole, I looked at him with a considerable degree of 
complacency ; for though kingly government might orig- 
inally have been elective, all hereditary government is 
founded, directly or indirectly, on usurpation ; yet where 
a people acquiesce, this usurpation, at least during the 
acquiescence, receives a popular sanction. 

The three princesses were to me objects of commisera- 
tion. I viewed them as the wretched victims of political 
expediency. " Born under the agonies of self-denial and 
renounced desire," ^ amidst the mockery of a court they 
endure the ])enance of a nunnery. How can that woman 
be happy who feels herself alone in the midst of millions, 

1 Not so the generous Cathmor ; he retired when his praise was sung. 
"The voice of Fonar rose in praise of Cathmor, son of Larthon , but Cathinor 
did not hear his praise. He lay at the roar of a stream." — Ossian, Temora. 

2 Lavater's Aphorisms. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 183 

not one of whom regards her more than a piece of State 
furniture ? The heart must have some object on which to 
repose, or it will prey on itself. The trappings of royalty, 
the idiotic applause of thousands, and the elevation of 
momentary pride, heightened by contrast, leave but tran- 
sient impressions which lose their importance with every 
recurrence. In such a miserable state there is not even 
play for a woman's vanity, for she is above the tempta- 
tion to be vain ; nor can she have any desire to please, 
for a withered heart knows no pleasure. 

Behind their Majesties and the princesses stood certain 
ladies and gentlemen "in waiting." Having noticed the 
fact that they had been standing two hours, and thinking 
it rather singular, I asked the person who sat next to me 
why they did not sit down. He smiled at my ignorance, 
and told me that etiquette required them to stand. Those 
who stood behind their Majesties were Earls. I know not 
what may be the sentiments or feelings of Earls, but of this 
I am sure: there is not an earldom in England which 
could tempt me to stand two hours behind their Majesties' 
chairs. 1 

At the close of the entertainment, the royal family were 
escorted home under a very strong guard with drawn 
cutlasses. 

After witnessing all this etiquette and solemn ceremony, 
which certainly was well calculated to astonish weak minds, 
I could not help reverting to our own country, and figuring 
to myself George Washington, after his return to private 
life, sitting as foreman of a country jury ; or, to give a 
stronger contrast to European mummery, I might men- 
tion the late President Adams, who, at a conflagration in 
Philadelphia, stood two hours handing buckets of water. 

1 The fact is, the gentlemen-in-waiting stand four hours, or during the 
whole entertainment ; the ladies are relieved every two hours. 



184 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Certainly, no man can contemplate with indifference the 
chief magistrate of six millions of people — " dispari gen- 
ere . . . alius alio more viventcs," ^ — a plebeian among 
plebeians, and feeling more secure in the midst of his 
fellow-citizens than if he were guarded with a legion of 
cavalry. Would not Mr. Jefferson be mortified if Con- 
gress should vote him a guard ? Would he not say : " I 
never feel more secure than when surrounded by my 
fellow-countrymen. Have I lost their confidence to the 
degree that personal protection is thought necessary ? " 

I should Kke to dwell on this subject, but it might 
appear invidious. Adieu. 



LETTER XVI. 



LoxDOx, January 30. 

You are quite voluminous in your questions ; but they 
are all interesting, as well to myself as to you. The most 
important : " Whether the Constitution of the United States 
appears at this distance more or less capable of sup}jorting 
itself on its own inherent strength," demands an entire 
letter ; and to satisfy you, a more labored one than I can 
at present write. 

Literature cannot be expected, at present, to flourish in 
the L^nited States as luxuriantly as it will in a few years. 
The useful naturally precedes the ornamental, — cottages 
were built long before the Temple of the Muses. The 
equality of condition in the United States, together with 
the excellent policy of dividing estates equally among all 
the children, obliges the citizens to become the builders of 
their own fortunes. Either agriculture or commerce in- 

1 Sallust. Cataliua, vi. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 185 

sures the decencies of life to industry or enterprise ; and 
the young man whose talents might have ranked him high 
on the hill of science scarcely hesitates whether to prefer 
a hahitation on the fertile banks of the Mississippi to a 
more elevated seat on Parnassus. Hence you find many 
more men of talent, not to say genius, than scholars. We 
have a few passable scholars, but not one of them happens 
to be a man of genius ; and we have many citizens of first- 
rate ability, but none of them are scholars. The mere 
scholar can never claim more than the merit of scholar- 
ship. The man of genius, for the reason just stated, is 
obliged in the early part of life to neglect his scholarship 
for worldly pursuits ; and by the time he is in easy cir- 
cumstances it is too late to become a scholar. 

Had D., P., L., or J., preferred the society of the Muses 
to the courts of law or the practice of physic, the banks of 
the Thames had as frequently echoed their labors as the 
banks of the Ohio resound with the periods of Burke, the 
dignified narrative of Robertson, or the more stately tenor 
of Gibbon ; while England, though she could not boast of 
them as subjects, would assert her claim to them as 
authors. It is really a loss to the community, that such 
men, capable of attaining to the highest style of literature, 
and who might have produced new truths or destroyed 
sanctioned error, should suffer their abilities to evaporate 
with the fleeting occurrences which give rise to their exer- 
tions. Those whom God has endued with superior powers 
owe it to patriotism, to their fellow-citizens, to posterity, 
to leave behind them some monument more durable than 
a tombstone and more interesting than " Here lies the 
body." What though the architecture of their minds in- 
dicates different orders ? In the collision of contending 
principles the brightest sparks are elicited. What though 
the world can scarcely contain the conflicting parties w^hen 



186 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

living? The same monument becomes their memorial 
when dead. Rousseau and Voltaire met at last in the Pan- 
theon ; while Butler and Milton may shake hands in West- 
minster Abbey. Nor is the benefit to posterity less on this 
account. The labors of Burke and Paine find a place on 
the same shelf ; nor do the bickerings of Sallust and Cicero 
derogate from their individual merit. Nature has wisely 
ordained that amidst the vicissitudes of human life the 
human mind shall partake of these vicissitudes ; other- 
wise, if immutable principles were adopted, mankind would 
become too deeply rooted in habit, would be rendered in- 
capable of pursuing the expedient, and would always con- 
flict with accident, emergency, or novel circumstance. A 
few great moral principles are, and ever have been, ac- 
knowledged ; but the minor morals and all those principles 
founded in convenience, vary with time, are subject to 
revolution, and obedient to contingency. 

When the sciences shall be cultivated in the United 
States, those branches which relate to civil polity, or to 
speak more generally, all that which is connected with or 
relative to man, will be treated in a manner which must 
shock the feelings of all Europe, and oppose the principles 
of all ages. From the Stagyrite down to the no less 
powerful oracle of Lichfield, the legitimacy of those hoary 
sanctions of established authority will be disputed ; while 
the great advantage which the United States will afford 
of appealing to facts,^ and to the successful operation of 
principles which have hitherto been deemed impracticable 
merely because they were never permitted an opportunity 
of trial, will challenge respect on this side of the Atlantic, 
and, what is all-important, will confirm our fellow-citizens 

1 " Human experience," says Dr. Johnson, " which is constantly contra- 
dicting, is the great test of truth." But in Europe, human experience has 
never had a fair trial. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 187 

iu their attachment to a Constitution which seems to em- 
brace all possible good with least possible evil. 

But you must not imagine the people of England are 
more intelligent than the pteople of the United States. It 
is the reverse ; there is much more useful information and 
practical common-sense among our citizens than among 
the generality of the English. In the United States, a 
man's mind is early awakened to reflection and comparison. 
He feels that he is a member of the body politic ; he takes 
a lively interest in public affairs, and probably looks for- 
ward to some office in his town, county, or State. Hence 
the country people in the United States, whose occupation 
in England would be an evidence of their profound igno- 
rance, frequently surprise you with information which no 
man would have been at the trouble of acquiring had he 
not foreseen a possibility of bringing it to public view. 
Not long since, I found a shoemaker reading De Lolme on 
the English Constitution while his leather was soaking in 
the tub. Taking the book into my hand, I observed that he 
had marked the following passage, which refers to the con- 
duct of a popular assembly in the act of legislating : — 

" But as very few among them have previously considered the 
subjects on which they are called upon to determine, very few carry 
along with them any opinion or inclination, or at least any inclina- 
tion of their own, and to which they are resolved to adhere. As, 
however, it is necessary at last to come to some resolution, the 
major part of them are determined by reasons which they would 
blush to pay any regard to on much less serious occasions. An 
unusual sight, a change of the ordinary place of the assembly, a 
sudden disturbance, a rumor, are, amidst the general want of a spirit 
of decision, the svfficiens ratio of the determination of the greatest 
part; and from this assemblage of separate wills, thus formed 
hastily and without reflection, a general will results, which is also 
void of reflection." ^ 

1 De Lolme on the Constitution of England, bk. ii. 5. 



188 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

" Why," said the shoemaker, " Mr. De Lolme attributes 
this conduct to the Romans, and is happy to take occasion 
from such instances to abuse the democratic form of gov- 
ernment. Now, our government is much more popular 
than the ancient democracies, except in the particular in- 
stance he has mentioned, of direct legislation; and the 
temporary resigning of which into the hands of those 
■whom we from time to time delegate is not in fact dis- 
claiming the prerogative, but legislating by proxy. So De 
Lolrae's observations do not, in this respect, apply to our 
democratic system ; but," he added, " I am not disposed 
to quarrel with De Lolme. He could not foresee that we 
should spoil certain of liis positions : his work is a fme 
panegyric and deserves a statue." 

No ; the republic of letters has not become an aris- 
tocracy in our country. Knowledge seems to follow the 
law of inheritance, and is pretty equally distributed. Thus 
a competent portion of learning is found in every town ; 
and though Pope's famous couplet may be objected, — 

" A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring," 

yet, like many more of his verses, they are perfect non- 
sense. A little learning with a weak head will often be 
less beneficial than profound ignorance ; but even in this 
case, a little will be less dangerous than deep learning. A 
man of common-sense is never rendered a fool by a little 
learning. Mr. Pope owes his fame to his genius, not to 
his education. There is not a schoolboy nowadays who 
has not more learning than had Socrates ; yet Socrates 
was never intoxicated with the shallow draught. A man 
of great strength of mind is less likely to exercise his own 
powers with great than with moderate learning. No man 
of genius was ever fond of thumbing a dictionary. While 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 189 

the learned man is breaking the nut-shell, the man of 
genius has found the kernel. The United States, on every 
emergency, has produced men full grown, who have ac- 
quitted themselves with ability and propriety. 

I cannot better illustrate this point than by a comparison 
of our Congress with the British Parliament. There is a 
reason why each should have a pre-eminence over the 
other. The peer is born to a seat in the House of Lords ; 
or, if created, he must like Jenkinson be great in some 
way or other. Hence the House of Lords must be com- 
posed of a few legislators of first-rate ability ; and even 
the generality, by reason of education, ought to possess 
superior minds. After all, you will find many stupid fel- 
lows among them. However, they are not to blame ; they 
could not help being born legislators. With respect to the 
House of Commons the same reason partially exists. Many 
of the members, like Pitt and Fox, were educated for the 
House of Commons. Some few of commanding abilities 
and popular address claim a seat in the House, no matter 
who their fathers were ; such was Burke, and such is Sheri- 
dan. Besides, the greatest and most dangerous or useful 
of the commoners are often created peers, and thereby 
keep up the ability and dignity of a body of men which 
could otherwise scarcely support itself on a hereditary 
principle ; for if one should look into the House of Lords 
during the absence of all those who have been created in 
the present reign, he might forget to take off his hat. 
Now, the probability is that you will find in Parliament a 
few members of first-rate powers, the generality rather 
above mediocrity, and a certain number in respect to 
whom it would puzzle a predestinarian to tell how they 
came there. 

In the United States, we have neither these advantages 
nor disadvantages. The legislator is sometimes taken 



190 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

from the plough, sometimes from the counting-house, but 
more frequently from the law-shop. An Englishman, I 
know, must smile at this, and imagine that our members 
would bring their professions with them to Congress, and 
prove, illustrate, and embellish their arguments with sug- 
gestions drawn from the farm-yard, tlie warehouse, or the 
attorney's office. It is worthy of remark, however, that 
our members of Congress have, most of them, been in busi- 
ness, and consequently they know more of human life than 
do the English peers ; and though they may at first be 
deficient in forms and precedents, they are likely to bring 
more mind to the public service. As they are considerably 
advanced in life, and already had shown their abilities 
before they were delegated, their former agricultural, com- 
mercial, or legal pursuits qualify them to make the laws 
more just and equal in their operation. " Plus poUere mul- 
torum ingenia consiliaque." 

These considerations give our members a decided superi- 
ority over the English peers ; I mean there will be more 
capacity in the one body than in the other, notwithstanding 
there will ever be a few pre-eminent members in the House 
of Lords, of recent creation. This docs not apply to the 
House of Commons ; for though there are many rotten 
boroughs and no little ministerial influence at elections, 
yet this does not debar any ability from the House : for the 
minister will naturally seek the man of greatest capacity. 
Hence you find Windham, Laurence, Canning, and others 
in the House, who would be very loath to be questioned 
respecting the hustings. 

The happy days which we have experienced under the 
Constitution of the United States have scarcely offered, 
since its adoption, two important occasions of calling forth 
the abilities of Congress. The question of the Judiciary 
gave rise to the most spirited and well contested debate 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 191 

which was ever heard in a deliberative assembly ; while 
the dignity and moderation with which it was conducted 
proved the empire of reason over passion and personality. 
Had such a question — a question which called forth the 
whole force of political feeling in every individual of the 
legislature — been agitated in the House of Commons, you 
might have heard Mr. Fox pant across the Thames ; Mr. 
Pitt would have forgotten his usual senatorial dignity ; Dr. 
Laurence would have frothed at the mouth ; Mr. Windham, 
forgetting the point in question, would have hurled Greek 
from the philippics of Demosthenes at his opponents ; and 
Mr. Erskine would have been carried out. 

The members of Congress were not less surprised than 
their fellow-citizens at this unexpected display of close 
argument arrayed in the most brilliant eloquence. The 
public mind was immediately convinced when Brecken- 
ridge spoke to his motion, and supported it with force and 
simplicity, destitute of the least appeal to popular senti- 
ment. But when Morris arose, his wild eloquence threw 
a mist before the eyes of every one, and served to keep in 
agitation a question supposed to be settled. Yet Mason, 
with a steady, piercing eye, saw through the labyrinth of 
party-colored rhetoric, and, reverting to first principles, 
brought back the question to its original state. These 
great efforts in the Senate aroused all the ability of the 
House, and called forth faculties which had either slept 
for years or were not supposed to exist. The modest 
Hemphill, with the simplicity of his sect, supported his 
opinion with a dignity peculiar to himself ; while Giles 
and Bayard, veterans in debate, knowing each other and 
conscious of the public expectation, reserved themselves 
to the last, and came prepared for the arduous conflict. 

Adieu. 



192 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER XYIL 

London, February 18. 

A GOVERNMENT wliich owes its greatness to the vicious 
passions, and whose stability is foundad on an artificial 
basis, should endeavor as much as possible to substitute 
ideal glory for real patriotism, and should call the atten- 
tion of the people to the consideration of what their fathers 
have been, not to what they themselves are ; for a ruined 
country like a ruined woman may support itself for a cer- 
tain time on the credit of its former reputation. 

Fortimately for England, she has many objects to engage 
the affections of her subjects which serve the purpose of 
a sort of spurious jiatriotism. This bias to our country, 
when principle is wanting, is absolutely necessary, other- 
wise tlie people will be beggared with a standing army. 

In the advantage of external attachments, England 
stands pre-eminent over all nations. In the first place, 
she is small in territory, in the next, she is an island. 
Such circumstances may operate on a people without their 
knowledge ; but England has food for her pride, which is 
the strongest trait in her character. It is a property of 
the human mind in its most miserable state to rest with 
a degree of complacency cither on some object, or, if that 
fails, on some delusion. If a nation be no longer great, 
the people console themselves with past greatness; if no 
longer brave, they are ready to appeal to their ancestors. 

Great men, great victories, magnificent public buildings, 
stupendous monuments, pompous equipages, nay, a long 
line of kings and nobles, secretly operate in Europe instead 
of a greater force, and produce a counterfeit patriotism. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 193 

I say counterfeit, for most of those who are emphatically 
styled great men have been public burdens. Great vic- 
tories have usually originated a second war, while the first 
originated in a spirit of plunder, or, what more frequently _ 
happens in our days, a spirit of commerce. Magnificent 
public buildings are a sure mark of slavery and oppression ; 
the pyramids do no honor to Egypt. Stupendous monu- 
ments not infrequently rise in honor of the tyrant, and at 
the expense of slaves ; they are an incentive to false ambi- 
tion, and perpetuate and sanction the principle to which 
they were reared. Kings ^ and nobles are the severest libel 
which any people can suffer ; they had their origin in the 
weakness of mankind, at length they usurped an hereditary 
autliority, and now have their continuance through the 
baseness of mankind. When kings and nobles are once 
instituted, it is their constant policy to discourage every 
advance to former virtue. Said the late Catharine of Rus- 
sia : " If men would listen more carefully to the dictat»?s 
of reason and justice, they would have no occasion for us 
or others upon thrones. I was always fond of philos- 
ophy, and my mind has ever been altogether republican. 
My innate love and regard for liberty, to be sure, forms a 
strange contrast to my boundless power." ^ Good God ! 
if these are the sentiments of a despot, a woman who 
held twenty-four millions of slaves in chains, what ought 
to be the feelings of freemen ! If we do not guard the 

1 Monarchy doubtless originated in the infancy and weakness of society, 
when au able, bold, and popular man was elected to protect and nnite the dis- 
cordant interests of his own tribe or clan. Thus, though simple monarchy 
may boast an elder origin than republics, all hereditary authority is founded 
in usurpation, and is a continued usurpation. I might easily demonstrate this, 
so coukl Lord Thurlow. 

^ Catharine wrote this in a letter to Zimmerman ; her letters to Diderot 
and D'Alembert were probably in the same style. Persons like Catliarine 
carry with them their own excuse. Those who will not be free deserve to 
be slaves. 

13 



194 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

sacred fire with which we arc intrusted, we shall deserve 
to be governed by a woman, and when dead, torn from 
our sepulchres by posterity, and have our dust scattered 
to the winds of heaven. There is no spark in Europe at 
which to light another torch. The chains of slavery no 
longer clank ; restlessness no longer brightens them ; they 
are reposing in rust. If liberty be not cherished by us, 
she will retire beyond the Appalachian mountains ; her 
cause in Europe is hopeless. The blood of Hampden was 
offered in vain, and one day, soon after, rendered ineffect- 
ual the efforts of years. The labors of Sidney ended in 
constructive treason ; and the fair prospects of Brissot, of 
the Rolands and others, closed in despair. It is you, my 
countrymen, on whom all Europe is looking, most with in- 
difference, a few with sympathy ; but her kings and nobles 
are watching with the eagle eye of despots, to seek in your 
miscarriage a sanction for their own principles.^ 

What though we have no magnificent palaces ? Manins 
Curius lived in a cottage. What though we have no hered- 
itary nobility? "One family is as ancient as another." ^ 
What though the simplicity of our temples, unindebted to 
the chisel, command no admiration from the traveller ? 
The pattern of humility was born in a manger. What 
though we have no marble monuments ? The human licart 
was once affected by a rude pile of stones bearing no other 
inscription than " Sta viator, calcas hcroem." 

But to return to the English. In addition to many natu- 
ral and adventitious causes of attachment which are com- 
mon to all the subjects, there are others which do not any 
less influence those who feel themselves of some little 
weight in the democratic branch of the Constitution. As 
you readily perceive, this attachment to which I refer 

1 C. P. Sumner's Eulogy on Washington. 

2 Frederic II. Memoirs of the House of Brandenbnrg. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 195 

is of a political nature. This class, if they have the 
least knowledge of their own history, ought to feel elevated 
in reflecting that, even in the dark ages, there was suffi- 
cient spirit in England to give law to a king fully disposed 
to be a tyrant ; and though in succeeding times, the people 
bandied about by York and Lancaster, at one moment re- 
joiced in a victory which had no popular right for its 
object, at the next were happy to escape in a general 
amnesty, yet under Richard the Third tliere was spirit 
enough to overturn an usurpation in the third year, though 
supported by first-rate abilities and heroic valor.^ If the 
national spirit departed for a century, it returned to take 
vengeance for three former reigns on a man who was com- 
paratively a mild prince. But what ought to elate the 
English people more than all this, there was found, not 
long after, a power in the nation capable of dropping a fool, 
of excluding his posterity, and establishing a new family 
on the throne. This power, it must be confessed, was not 
exerted in consequence of the sovereignty ^ of the people 
of England ; yet its exertion under any circumstances shows 
the difference between this people and the monotonous 
history of other nations, where, if " by the grace of God " 
they are afflicted with a tyrant or a fool, he is feared as a 
demon, or worship{)ed as a sage. All these historical 
traits have their influence ; for an Englishman discovers 
that there is a power residing somewhere in the nation 
capable of creating all things anew. Hence the class of 

1 I know not why the character of Richard the Third should be treated 
with peculiar severity. There is little or nothing with which to reproach 
him after he came to the throne. The tyranny of Richard never reached 
the people ; and he was less a villain in order to acquire a crown, than were 
some of his successors after they had obtained one. 

2 In Europe, it looks like affectation or irony to say " the sovereign 
people." It is so. But nothing was more usual at Rome than for the orators 
to style a popular assembly the sovereign people, — " ut imperium po]iuli Ro- 
mani majestasque conservaretur." (Cic. pro Eabirio Perduelliouis Reo.) 



196 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Englishmen to whom I refer at present, cannot but feel a 
proud pre-eminence in comparing themselves with their 
neighbors. Doubtless the extorting of Magna Charta from 
King John, the beheading of Charles the First, the dismis- 
sion of James the Second, and the establishment of a new 
monarchy, are the finest portions of English history. A 
nation which knows how thus either to reduce to reason, 
dismiss forever, or speak in thunder to their ill-disposed 
or incorrigible rulers cannot for a long time endure either 
the stork, the serpent, or the tyranny of ministers under a 
liarmless King Log, though there may not be sufficient 
virtue in the nation to establish a legitimate government. 
For the English are not yet quite like the Ottomans ; nor 
is their empire quite like the Ottoman, — weak in propor- 
tion to its wide extended territory, and poor in proportion 
to its natural fertility. 

If the common peojile and tlic humblest of that class 
who are allowed the privilege of voting feel a reflected 
consequence in viewing their country, the gentry and 
nobility must naturally be the best patriots in the world, 
since the latter rise with the prosperity of their country, 
though they suffer little in its distress. Indeed, the nobil- 
ity in all nations have exhibited as much love for their 
country as the leech feels for a plethora. 

I confess, if my country had experienced the various 
revolutions and modifications which England has under- 
gone, and the people in every contest with royal authority 
had added to their own prerogative, it would be matter of 
proud contemplation. But our country has done more ; 
instead of amending and modifying an indefinite and un- 
intelligible Constitution, and advancing and retreating in 
the maze of politics, she has, by one great effort, brought 
back the social compact to its first principles, restored a 
small portion of humanity to its original respectability, and 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 197 

left their posterity a form of government which merits to 
be hated by kings and nobles. Adieu. 



LETTER XVIII. 



London, March 7. 

You inquire respecting the climate of England. That 
climate must be salubrious which has produced so many 
great men ; yet I would not seem to attach too much to 
this circumstance, for the most congenial climates do not 
constantly produce the greatest men. It is reported in 
history that the Dutch were once generous and noble, that 
the Spaniards were once brave, and Livy is either erro- 
neous or too much given to irony, if Italy did not at one 
time produce men. 

If the English have a single prejudice, it is certainly 
not in favor of their climate. Their caricaturists, who for 
broad humor are unrivalled, hit off John Bull in a cloudy 
day with great success. The weather here is of such pub- 
lic concern that not infrequently it is a subject of comment 
in the newspapers. There are perhaps more weathercocks 
in London than in all the world besides ; though it ought to 
be considered that London is the seat of government. 

Among the various modes of insurance which the wit of 
man has invented, I am not a little surprised that no one 
has ever opened an office for the insurance of fair weather. 
All those who are in pursuit of pleasure or business ; all 
who have delicate constitutions, and are liable to suf- 
fer from the wind being a point or half a point variant 
from their favorite quarter ; all who are incommoded on 
journeys, — might be compensated in money for mental 



198 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

or corporal inconvenience. This may appear rather ri- 
diculous at first siglit ; but it is only an improvement on 
marine insurance, and is much more rational than insur- 
ance on lives. I have no doubt the lawyers will improve 
this hint : it would afford rare sport at Westminster and 
Guildhall. All the dull rogues in town would insure ; for 
the author who wrote on a dull day would recover special 
damages if his book did not sell. All the ladies at the 
west end of the town would insure, though I know not 
what damages would be given for an unsuccessful rout. 
All those who frequent places of public amusement, as 
well as the proprietors of such places, would insure ; the 
one for lack of pleasure, the other for disappointment 
in money receipts. 

If many of the English have degenerated into a mongrel 
sort ; if the mane of tlie lion lias given place to more car ; 
if a thousand nervous affections have turned the men into 
women without the spirit of women, I am not disposed to 
attribute it to the climate, which is now as good as when 
Boadicea led the van of hor countrymen. Let us, for a 
moment, consider what effects the climate of England pro- 
duces, and then we can judge whether or not it be insalu- 
brious. Where neither the excess of pleasure nor the 
excess of labor emaciates, the English, both men and 
women are exceedingly handsome. Their round, ruddy 
countenances bespeak a mellow temperature of weather 
which neither relaxes nor contracts. Surely, the climate 
of that country must be good which produces brave men 
and handsome women ; and I think those gloomy affections 
to which so many of the English are subject, ought not to 
be imputed to the climate. Man must first be degenerate 
before a west wind ^ or a cloudy day can reduce him 
to despondency. 

1 In England it is the west wind which brings hanging weather. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 199 

" By chase our long-liv'd fathers earn'd their food; 
Toil strung the nerves and purified the blood; 
But we, their sons, a pamper'd race of men, 
Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten." ^ 

This is doubtless mere poetry. The English are more 
laborious now than if they were hunters ; and as for their 
being dwindled down to seventy years, I think it rather a 
bull. The English live as long and bear their age as well, 
I believe, as any people. My washerwoman tells me she 
knows more than half a dozen women in her neighborhood 
between the ages of sixty-seven and seventy-five who gain 
their livelihood at the washing-tub. I do not know that 
the English live longer or retain their faculties to a later 
period than the New Englanders do ; but the inroad of 
years does not make so early nor so deep an impression on 
their faces. The climate is so temperate, both in summer 
and winter, that I have not experienced what I consider a 
warm or a cold day. Hence the pores of the body are 
not so frequently open in summer, nor so continually con- 
tracted in winter. When I say the English bear their age 
better tlian our people, I am supposing that they lead 
similar lives. In New England you rarely see the emaci- 
ated, the deformed, the rickety, or the deficient ; in Eng- 
land, you meet with them at every step. I have seen 
thousands of these miserable creatures, to whom it would 
have been an act of mercy to have extended a certain 
wise law of Sparta. 

Whether or not the women bear their years better than 
ours do, I am not certain, they are so very loath to tell 
their ages ; but of this I am sure, — the dress, carriage, 
and conversation of the English women are at least ten 
years in their favor. The contrast is remarkable. A 
young woman in this country is willing to be sociable, and 

1 Dryden, Epistle xiii. 



200 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

seems disposed to render herself pleasing, rather than an 
object of indifference. In the United States, on the con- 
trary, a young woman is too ready to imagine she has done 
wrong, and frequently checks herself, and betrays a degree 
of guilt, when she discovers that she has unwittingly done 
herself justice. The manners of the one render her 
younger in appearance than she is ; the manners of the 
other make her seem older. 

There is one description of Englishmen on whom the 
climate must operate very unhappily. I mean the country 
gentlemen, who, residing most of their time on their 
estates, and not having a taste for either the elegant or 
the more laborious pursuits of agriculture, or, what is still 
more unhappy, cold to the charms of literature, spend their 
days insulated within their own barren selves, and instead 
of giving their days to " negotiura cum dignitate," sacrifice 
their lives to a false '" otium cum dignitate." To such, a 
gloomy day is the harbinger of their evil genius. The 
sombre appearance of their aged mansions, and the 
solemn aspect of the scene around render their solitude 
awful, and recall the most depressing recollections. The 
spectres of their ancestors come in the clouds and haunt 
the halls of their former residence ; while the sullen still- 
ness of the trees helps to turn the mind upon itself, which 
to most men is, of all ills, the most insupportable. The 
country gentlemen feel that they are the centre of a scene 
from which they cannot fly ; past pleasures are now con- 
verted into present pain, while the present moment, in 
imagination, is to last forever. 

Such of the English people as know how to think, think 
as much as or more than any other people ; yet those 
who think most do not always think most happily. Some 
persons at the end of a revery find themselves in the 
slough of sensuality ; others think only to get rid of them- 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 201 

selves, while some bring themselves to the sad conclusion 
that it would be madness in them to be happy. The English, 
I believe, think less happily than any other people. They 
scarcely affect happiness to hide their misery. Montes- 
quieu, you recollect, attributes this to their form of govern- 
ment, rather than to their climate. This merits attention. 
I will never admit that a free people ^ (so Montesquieu 
termed the English) are less happy than a tyrant could 
render them ; but I can easily believe that a people feeling 
their incapacity to enjoy those rights which their consti- 
tution of government guarantees, will be unhappy in pro- 
portion to their sensibility, while the frequent changes 
of weather will give a sad cast to their dispositions. The 
great body of every people are secure from the violent pas- 
sions. A free people are less secure, indeed, but their 
jealousy, sensibility, and transient violence are rather a 
proof of their happiness ; for their passions are never 
excited except when they imagine they are about to lose 
either a part or the whole of that which Montesquieu 
thinks is the chief cause of their misery. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XIX. 



London, March 23. 

The character of the English, I have more than once 
observed, is a singular mixture of dignity and servility. 
The more I see of this people the more am I struck with 
these opposite traits. Here are few men who have not two 
characters which they put off and resume at pleasure. 
The moment a man is addressed, he either disciplines 

^ Whenever I call the English /ree, I mean comparative freedom. 



202 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

himself to a demeanor of inferiority or assumes an air of 
importance suitable to the opinion he thinks is entertained 
of his presence. Of all characters that is least respectable 
which is now the lion and presently the sheep. I have 
seen at a coffee-house a man who, in the pride of his im- 
portance challenging the whole conversation and enjoying 
that pre-eminence which was tacitly allowed, sank suddenly 
into silence the moment another person entered the room. 

They tell a pleasant story of an European who was in- 
troduced to an Indian chief. You know the American 
savages are celebrated for their unreserved deportment in 
presence of those whom the world call great. The Euro- 
pean, with an inherent servility, fell on his knees, and by 
his interpreter addressed his savage majesty to the follow- 
ing effect : " Most powerful chief, who boldest in thy hands 
the destinies of the four corners of the earth, the fame of 
thy valor has encircled both hemispheres ! Accept the 
homage of the white man who has come from tlie other 
side of the great water to behold the Little Toad-Eater." 
Neither the chief nor his companions smiled, — that might 
have discomposed the white man. Neither did the chief 
know how to reply ; but, suspecting from the white man's 
posture that he was quite exhausted, with true civility 
asked him if he wished for anything to eat. The interpreter 
replied that they had just eaten and drunk abundantly. 
This perplexed the chief and his companions, who won- 
dered why the white man preferred to continue on his 
knees. At length the white man, thinking it a great 
breach of politeness to be left in such a situation, asked, 
" How long shall I continue on my knees ? " The chief re- 
plied, " As long as you please." This was natural ; the 
child of Nature being ignorant of the reason why the man 
had knelt, knew no reason why he should not rise at one 
time as well as at another. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 203 

Not a little of the national character may be discovered 
at the courts of law. The examination of witnesses in 
the frequently tedious tragi-comedy of law is a great relief 
to the judges, to the lawyers, and to the jury. A poor man 
comes into court with a presentiment of being subjected 
to abuse and insult. The counsellor frequently inquires 
of the witness his occupation, his mode of life, and his 
circumstances, with a view to ridicule him. Cowardly 
conduct to abuse a defenceless man from behind a chief- 
justice, and under the covert of law ! A man of fortune is 
treated very differently ; and if anything offensive should 
escape the counsel, there is immediate room made for an 
apology which more than satisfies the delicate feelings of 
the witness. I know that witnesses often give their evi- 
dence in a manner which lays them open to fair criticism ; 
but if this sometimes happen, it is not a sufficient reason 
for abusing an honest man. Should our citizens receive 
such treatment in our courts as the poorer class of English 
suffer at Westminster and Guildhall, they would first call 
upon the judge to protect them ; and if not protected, they 
would protect themselves. Here an innocent man is 
obliged to suffer in cross-examination the meditated bru- 
tality of a secure attack, while the judge stands ready 
to commit the witness to Newgate if he dare to assert 
his dignity. 

I am daily more and more surprised at the difference 
between the English as a nation and as individuals. They 
themselves seem conscious of the difference. Individuals 
are more ready to resent national than personal attacks. 
The man who will sit patiently and hear his neighbors 
abused, instantly shows a spirit of opposition if it be ques- 
tioned whether the English were free under Queen Eliza- 
beth. It is the part of most men to take little care of 
their private, so long as their public character stands fair. 



204 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Dan Prior, after spending part of the evening with Pope, 
Swift, and Oxford, would close it over a pot of porter in 
Long Acre, with a soldier and his wife. 

If the English think they have no circumstantial, pre- 
scriptive right to assume superiority, they readily acquiesce 
in inferiority, and still assume as much as they dare. Not 
so our citizens ; they attach voluntary respect to merit, 
but do not allow even superiority to assume anything. 

I am happy to record the following anecdote, as it illus- 
trates a rare species of magnanimity. I was lately in com- 
])any with some of those hapj)y mortals, who, having 
already enjoyed a competency of fame, are now reposing 
under their own statues. They were speaking of vulgar 
prejudices. One of them said he had been stoned several 
times in passing through a certain country village, be- 
cause his hair naturally curled. I asked him how long 
since this happened ; he replied, " About thirty years since, 
when I was a journeyman shoemaker." 

I cannot better illustrate the subject of the present letter 
than by quoting the following famous speech of Beckford 
to George the Third. This speech is inscribed on Beck- 
ford's monument in Guildhall, in large, fair characters. 
It is supposed to do the city of London great honor. There 
certainly is in the last paragraph a wonderful degree of 
dignity for a Lord Mayor ; but the Asiatic style of the 
rest of the speech will be received in the United States 
for sarcastic raillery : — 

"Most Gracious Sovereign, — Will your Majesty be 
pleased so far to condescend as to permit the Mayor of 
your loyal city of London to declare in your royal presence, 
on behalf of his fellow-citizens, how much the bare appre- 
hension of your Majesty's displeasure would, at all times, 
affect their minds ; the declaration of that displeasure has 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 205 

already filled them with inexpressible anxiety, and with 
the deepest affliction. Permit me, sire, to assure your 
Majesty, that your Majesty has not in all your dominions 
any subjects more faithful, more dutiful, or more affec- 
tionate to your Majesty's person and family, or more 
ready to sacrifice their lives and fortunes to the main- 
tenance of the true honor and dignity of your crown. 

" We do, therefore, with the greatest humility and sub- 
mission, most earnestly supplicate your Majesty that you 
will not dismiss us from your presence without expressing 
a more favorable opinion of your faithful citizens, and with- 
out some comfort, without some prospect at least of re- 
dress. 

" Permit me, sire, further to observe, that whoever has 
already dared, or shall hereafter endeavor by false insinu- 
ations and suggestions to alienate your Majesty's affections 
from your loyal subjects in general, and from the city of 
London in particular, and to withdraw your confidence in 
and regard for your people, is an enemy to your Majesty's 
person and family, a violator of the public peace, and a 
l)etrayer of our happy Constitution as it was established 
at the glorious revolution." 

Thus ended this famous speech ; but his hard-hearted 
Majesty scarcely sat long enough to hear the supplications 
of his poor, disconsolate subjects. Beckford was dismissed 
without comfort and without redress. Alas, broken- 
hearted citizens of London ! 

But I challenge all the archives of Asia to match the 
following: "The Lords spiritual and temporal, and Com- 
mons do, in the name of all the people of England, most 
humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and 
posterity forever," etc. I am sick of such stuff. 

Adieu. 



206 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER XX. 

London, March 28. 

Had Theophrastus made a voyage to Britain, he might 
have embellished his treatise, " De Lapidibus," with num- 
berless " lusi naturiE." That Spartan was no doubt a wag 
who asked the Athenian whether trees grew square in his 
country. I know not why trees in Athens should not have 
been square as well as that the quarries in England should 
produce stones of all dimensions, some in the form of 
cylinders, others square, and some round. Nor is this all; 
stones not only grow in these convenient geometrical fig- 
ures, but grow as smooth as the hand of art could polish 
them ; and not a few of them seem to be fluted, as though 
a chisel had l)een employed, particularly those in the form of 
cylinders. Among all the curiosities in the British Museum, 
I saw not one of these natural productions, — a striking 
instance how little mankind regard the greatest miracles 
of Nature which are within the observation of everybody. 
Should one of these fluted columns be discovered in New 
England, every man would turn antiquary ; yet I should be 
sorry to see any of these fluted columns in our country, 
for our citizens would be so pleased with them that they 
might endeavor to force our quarries to conform to those 
of England, and that would be an endless undertaking. 

With these ready-made materials, it is no wonder that 
many of their public buildings are built on a magnificent 
scale. St. Paul's is one grand, entire, vast edifice, which 
does great honor to the Saint, and argues no little piety in 
the nation. Where so much money is made by religion, 
it would look like ingratitude not to show some little 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 207 

external respect to its founders ; yet St. Paul's is rather a 
niggardly building for a people who have sported away so 
much money. St. Paul's cost only £1,500,000 sterling. 
Comparing the value of money at the time it was built 
with the present value of money, we may suppose it cost 
£3,500,000 ; a trifle which could never have been missed 
from the treasury, and which might have been reimbursed 
to the nation in exchequer bills in two days. 

The front of St. Martin's, its bold design, its majestic 
pillars, its elevated ground-work, rising so gradually that 
the eye commands it without an effort, its weighty pedes- 
tals and spacious portico frequently delay the stranger until 
divine service is over. I might thus run over, in descrip- 
tion, the Royal Exchange, Somerset House, Westminster 
Abbey, and a hundred other buildings ; but they excite no 
feeling in the heart, convey no food to the mind, and scarcely 
the skeleton of an image to the imagination. Yet the Par- 
liament House I must particularly mention. It is a very 
old building, and from a western view seems to have fallen 
from the clouds in " disjuncta membra " and to have been 
blown together by a violent wind ; so that the Parliament 
and Parliament House are perfectly congenial. At differ- 
ent periods this building has undergone many improve- 
ments. There is quite a small portion of tlie building, 
known as the House of Commons, formerly St. Steplien's 
Chapel, which long ago was devoted to what was then 
called religion. This part of the building is thought by 
many to be out of repair; but, unfortunately, it is situate 
so near the centre, and the approach to it is through so 
many windings that you might as well pull down the 
whole edifice as undertake to repair it. Besides, many of 
the occupiers of this apartment have an interest in the 
premises, and are naturally attached to a house which 
has cost them so much money ; but, like many other 



208 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

persons, rather than repair their house they are willing to 
hazard its falling on their heads. Perhaps no human in- 
vention was ever more criticized than this apartment. 
For instance, some have ohserved that it appears very 
well defined at a distance, Ijut that internally it is little 
better than a labyrinth ; that those who enter soon get be- 
wildered, no longer know their former friends, and seldom 
return the same way they entered. Others have compared 
it to a worsted purse, extremely accommodating, capable 
either of contraction or expansion, at pleasure. Some 
have more ludicrously compared it to a puppet-show, and 
have stretched the comparison ])eyond all bounds of tolera- 
tion. After all, I think it the best room in the house. 

A little lower down is another famous ajiartmcnt more 
ornamental than useful, called the House of Lords. Its 
size is a little less than that of the Ilouse of Commons. I 
never was in any place so well calculated for lounging; and 
I believe it a just remark, that most of those who find them- 
selves on these satin seats lounge away the rest of their 
days. Indeed, the government not infrequently places 
restless men there to make them easy ; such a wonderful 
influence have these satin seats on the spirits of men. A 
violent fever of ten or twenty years has been known to 
change to a life-long lethargy. Calypso never possessed a 
stronger influence over the nature of men than do these 
satin seats. 

There are many small apartments on the area well 
worthy the notice of a stranger. Those termed the courts 
of King's Bench and Equity are the most remarkable of 
the several courts. The court of Equity is a very small 
apartment, nearly circular, — in allusion, I suppose, to the 
circle, the most perfect of figures ; though a person whose 
case had been in Equity five-and-twenty years might sup- 
pose that the allusion points to Time, as the circle has no 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 209 

end. All these courts of law are so exceedingly circum- 
scribed that you might imagine they were designed for the 
lawyers only. The entrance to them is through a spacious 
hall, but the distance is so great that the suitors are fre- 
quently lost before they can find the courts. So this 
spacious hall, though built for the public service, is chiefly 
devoted to the entertainment of a few lawyers. It is a pity 
these courts cannot be rendered more commodious and 
easy of access ; but there is very little prospect of this, 
for the bare proposition would evoke a " nolumus mutare " 
throughout the country. 

1 shall speak more distinctly in my next letter. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXI. 

London, April 4. 

The conclusion of my last letter has given occasion for 
the present. 

Human laws, however well adapted to a people's circum- 
stances, however well defined or mildly executed, are of 
unequal operation. In all societies there are persons who 
hang so loosely on the social compact that they may be 
considered privileged characters, and paramount to the 
law ; while others, though seemingly born for the opera- 
tion of law on themselves, contrive to slip the noose of 
justice. These two classes are little affected, whether the 
laws operate kindly or with the greatest severity. How- 
ever, the number of these people will scarcely be trouble- 
some under a polity where all the members have it in their 
power to live by industry in decent respectability. Our 
own country is an illustrious proof of this ; the conven- 

14 



210 LETTERS FROxM LONDON. 

iences of life are there procured with such facility, and the 
government rests so lightly on the shoulders of the citizens, 
that the most abandoned European rogues find it to their in- 
terest, on their arrival, to become honest. The burden of 
the law forever bears hardest on that class of men who in 
most countries are the majority, — I mean those who have 
sufficient honesty to keep within the limits of the law, yet 
not sufficient property to feel perfectly easy under its au- 
thority. Hence the daring observation of Beccaria will be 
found practically true : " The generality of laws are ex- 
clusive privileges, — the tribute of all to the advantage 
of a few." 

Now, if the association of the rich and poor for the sup- 
port of law be a very unequal association, and if the poor 
suffer the chief burden of that establishment which pro- 
tects the rich, and if law will, from necessity, even in a 
government founded on the broad basis of political equal- 
ity, operate in this manner, the man who, confiding in the 
protection of law which has received its sanction from the 
highest human authority, experiences from whatever cause 
its inefficacy, and finds himself ruined — though the law 
in its sarcastic mockery may give him a verdict — must 
feel his moral sense weakened, and in the moment of 
indignation feel disposed to make reprisal. 

These observations are necessary in order to convince 
you that I am serious in what I shall advance in tlie pres- 
ent letter, though I cannot reasonably expect one word of 
it will be believed. 

It was the policy of Alfred, says history, to bring justice 
home to every man's door. Now this is either an orna- 
mental story in the annals of that age, or Madam Justice 
has for many years been too proud to enter the door of a 
cottage. It is the boast of the English that they live under 
oqual laws, and that in the eye of the law the meanest 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 211 

man in the kingdom ranks with the greatest. Though 
this were a vain boast, it bespeaks a people not entirely 
uninfluenced by noble sentiments. It has, however, unfor- 
tunately happened to other people besides the Romans to 
appeal to laws engraven on " twelve tables," but which, in 
process of time, attract the notice of the lawyer less than 
that of the antiquary. A modern Roman may dig up a 
broken piece of an old column which shall contain the 
whole spirit of Roman liberty, and on this authority assert 
himself a freeman. So may an Englishman produce from 
his dusty archives Magna Charta, and quote you the proud 
passage : " Nulli vendemus, nulli negabimus, aut differemus, 
rectum aut justiciam," and I will send him to the court of 
King's Bench or Common Pleas to recover the sum of XIO. 
A form of government or a code of laws may command our 
admiration, but unless they operate in practice they serve 
only to betray the weak more easily to the wary. Tlie 
operation of the laws is laiv, not their theory/. 

A legitimate government, that is, a government founded 
on public "will, should make it a first concern that the laws 
of property ^ sit as easy as possible on the shoulders of pov- 
erty. The greatest praise which a code of laws can receive 
is the high estimation in which it is held by tlie poor ; but 
if the operation of the laws be oppressive, the poor naturally 
transfer their hatred from the abuses of the laws to the 
laws themselves. Hence the embryo of revolution. It is 
unfortunate that in all governments destitute of a regene- 
rative principle the first abuse merges in the second, and 
the latter in the succeeding one ; so that at length accumu- 
lated abuses lay claim to prescription and outbrave the law 
itself. Otherwise it never could have happened that in 
England, famous throughout the world for just judges and 

1 Criminal law, however severe, in all countries operates more equally 
than the laws which regulate private property. 



212 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

well-defined law, a poor man whom injmy has overwhelmed 
is necessitated to fly from remedy, lest the justice of his 
country should double his distress. Indeed, I caught the 
following observation from Lord Chancellor Eldon,i while 
on his seat in Chancery : " In many instances a man who 
trusts to his neighbor's honesty, without taking any secu- 
rity, stands a better chance of obtaining justice than if he 
brings his case into Chancery on the faith of parchment." 
The Chancellor delivered this witli a vehemence which 
did him honor, and in just indignation at the perversion 
of justice, which in his own court and under his own eye 
occurs so frequently in spite of himself. This, let it be 
observed, was in the court of Chancery. It is the inferior 
courts which most interest the great mass of the people. 
In Chancery, if the scales of justice sometimes labor, the 
suitors in general can afford to oil them. Let the laws 
take care of the poor, the rich can take care of themselves : 
the widow's cruise I wish to spare. 

I shall now show you, by a single fact, the practical 
operation of law in England. 

In the year 1793 the number of writs from <£10 to .£20 
only, wliich issued in Middlesex, amounted to 5,719. The 
sums sued for amounted to <£ 81,791. If not one of these 
writs had been defended, the costs would have amounted 
to £68.728. Had they been defended, the amount of costs 
would have arisen to £285,950 ! This I do not expect you 
will believe. What havoc among the poor ! Sir William 
Blackstone says that the impartial administration of justice 
is the great end of civil society ; but such justice as the 
above, one would suppose, would soon be the complete end 
of civil society. 

Coleman, in his comedy of the " Poor Gentleman," im- 
agines the following dialogue between Sir Robert Bramble 

' Better known in the United States as Sir John Scot. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 213 

and Humphrey. Sir Roh. : " Is there any distresses in the 
parish ? Read the morning list, Humphrey." Humph. : 
" Jonathan Haggcns of Muck Mead is put in prison." S'ir 
Bob. : " Why, it was but last week Gripe, the attorney, 
recovered two cottages for him, by law, worth sixty 
pounds." Humph. : " And charged a hundred and ten 
for his trouble ; so seized the cottages for part of If is bill, 
and threw Jonathan into jail for the remainder." 

I know not where I read the following story, which, 
though in the oriental style, was doubtless fabricated in 
England : — 

Tanghi, a young and gay Chinese, had married the 
daughter of a wealthy Arab, whose dowry was three horses. 
Who was so happy as Tanghi ! He had a very pretty 
wife and, what in some countries is still more valuable 
than women, three of the finest horses in the empire. It 
is no wonder that Tanghi was disposed to make a gay 
appearance. He sported his horses to the admiration or 
envy of all Pekin ; but if wisdom is sometimes rash, how 
should folly know where to stop ? Tanghi soon sported 
away his property, and in a moment of distress sold his 
finest horse on a short credit. Tchin Chan, the pur- 
chaser, had a very particular friend, a lawyer, who com- 
manded no little practice at Pekin. This friend had 
long desired to become the proprietor of at least one of 
these Arabian horses ; and when his friend Tchin Chan 
informed him of the purchase, the lawyer naturally in- 
quired if the money were paid. To oblige his friend, 
Tchin Chan promised to refuse payment. The lawyer 
immediately wrote a note to Tanghi, informing him that 
Tchin Chan designed to refuse payment, and politely 
offered his services in recovering the money. At the end 
of nine months, Tanghi got judgment for the whole sum 
with interest ; but Tchin Chan, by the advice of his friend. 



214 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

appealed to a higher tribunal, and again recovered judg- 
ment for the money with interest. After another appeal 
in the last resort, final judgment with costs and interest 
was given in favor of Tanghi, for the Chinese agree with 
Sir William Blackstone in thinking that impartial justice 
is the great end of civil society. The story adds, that 
just before final judgment, Tanghi's two other horses were 
attached by his lawyer. 

Is it not remarkable that legislation, which ought to be 
the first, has in all countries been the last concern of 
nations ? While people are making telescopes twenty feet 
long to discover new systems, they are regardless of man, 
the glory of their own system ! Could not an Englishman 
visit the United States and retort much of this letter ? I 
Itclieve he might. 

There is one petty institution in London which merits all 
my admiration. It is the only instance which I have ever 
found of a discrimination between the rich and the poor.^ 
This institution is the Court of Requests for the recov- 

1 It is verv true the laws of property make uo distinction between man and 
man. A poor niau is secure of justice, when his cause comes before the sacred 
tribunal, bat if he do not perish before it arrives there, he may possibly find 
himself buried at last under a load of justice. 

Of all the emperors of the East, Selim was the most just. Not a day 
passed in which it was not proclaimed from the tower of the palace, " Selim 
is just ! Selim never sleeps while injustice triumphs." The name of Selim 
mittgled itself with the religion of his subjects. No praises ascended to 
Allah, in which Selim was not named ; no tears were shed which accused 
Selim ; no wrinkles of age owed a deeper furrow to the account of Selim. 
His presence among his people was as benign as the dew of heaven to the 
tropic latitudes. Razai lived far from the capital, content to cultivate a 
few paternal acres. An opulent neighbor in draining his own lauds, had 
overflowed the little patrimony of Razai. In vain Razai remonstrated, and 
then proceeded to the capital to throw himself at the feet of Selim, often 
repeating on the way, "Selim is just! Not a day passes in which is not 
proclaimed from the tower of the palace, Selim never sleeps while injus- 
tice triumphs." Razai had never seen the capital, and when he entered it 
his inquiring eyes and earnest looks arrested the attention of everybody. 
He told his storv a hundred times before he arrived at the palace, every 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 215 

ery, without appeal, of debts under forty shillings, at the 
expense of ten pence ! There are many of these petty 
courts distributed through Westminster, and if they oper- 
ate without abuse, are, in my opinion, not less illustrious 
than the most noble order of the Garter. 

Such institutions in the capital towns of the United 
States would afford an alleviation from one of the greatest 
pressures under which the poor labor. Such courts should 
command the whole practice under ten dollars ; and if the 
legal fees would not engage a lawyer of integrity and tal- 
ents, let him be remunerated from the county treasury. 

It would not be less glorious than beneficial to the 
United States should the Congress commission, at the ex- 
pense of the nation, a number of intelligent men to bring 
home all that is better in other countries in economy, law, 

agriculture, and the arts of life. 

Adieu. 

oue telliug him that Selim was just, and that it was daily proclaimed from 
the tower that Selim never slept while injustice triumphed. He approached 
the palace, and just before he entered he heard the sound of a trumpet pro- 
claiming, " Selim is just ! Selimnever sleeps while injustice triumphs." Razai's 
heart was in his eyes, — his heart was all over him ; he exclaimed in the warmth 
of his feelings, " Selim is just! and I shall return a happy man to Scliirah." 
Razai entered the palace, and thought he found himself already in the pres- 
ence of Selim, so splendid was the person who received him. It was one of 
Selim's favorite officers of the household. Razai related his case, and the 
officer responded, "Selim is just! But all who approach Selim must first 
purify themselves at the entrance of the palace, with an offering to justice." 
He was then conducted one step nearer to the throne of Selim, who was sit- 
ting in judgment. He was received by another splendid personage. Razai 
related his story, and the officer replied, "Selim is just ! Behold the eternal 
light of justice ! bright as the sun, and pure as his rays ; but all who ap]3roach 
Selim must first nourish this lamp with oil." This done, Razai was directed 
to the chief Aga. He related his story to the chief Aga, who responded, 
" Selim is just ! But all who approach — ." At this moment, Razai saw sev- 
eral persons returning from the royal presence. With a heart bursting, 
dubious, alarmed, he cried out, " Is Selim just ? " With one voice they all 
exclaimed, " Selim is just ! But, alas ! we perish under a load of justice ! " 



216 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER XXIL 

London', April 9. 

An Englishman once recommended to his son, who was 
about to travel, to go forty miles to see a man of letters, 
rather than five to see a famous city. The republic of let- 
ters has lost nothing of its ancient liberality. It is only 
necessary to wish to sec learned men in order to be ad- 
mitted to their society. I discovered this so soon that I 
burned most of my merchant-letters of introduction. 

I am acquainted with a gentleman who seems to have 
studied mankind with considerable success. He is learned, 
intelligent, and communicative ; and, what renders these 
qualities still more valuable, he is not an author. Of two 
men in all respects equal, I prefer the company of him who 
has not written a book.^ Mr. L., I imagine, is past fifty ; 
this with me is a recommendation. Ilis age and intelligence 
give him an authority which, in general, I have no riglit 
to dispute, while my deference disposes him to confidence, 
and raises us above rivalry. He invited me some time 
since to visit St. Paul's on some pleasant morning, and 
from its eminence to take a view of the city, as he had 
not seen it, he said, for the last twenty years and more. 
I waited on him yesterday morning, and was happy to find 
him disposed to devote the day to this purpose. It will 
be a memorable occasion with me, and not uninteresting 
to you. I shall therefore commemorate it with a long 
letter. 

He observed, that he had " always been fond of cultivat- 
ing the society of foreigners, for this is a surer means of 

1 Those who have written books are sometimes more precise, but gener- 
ally dogmatical, angular, and systematic. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 217 

understanding the peculiarities of a people than reading 
either their history or the fictions of travellers. Those 
minutia3 which distinguish the domestic character of one 
people from' another are either overlooked or thought too 
trifling to claim the notice of the historian, while the trav- 
eller is equally ready to embellish or deform. Hence one 
nation knows very little of another, except of their more 
prominent or excrescent features. You have heard that 
the Englishman is a more downright, positive character 
than the Frenchman ; but you will understand this charac- 
teristic better if you witness a conversation between them, 
— the one will use the indicative, the other fi'equently the 
subjunctive mood." He added : " No man can be ac- 
quainted with foreigners, if they appear in their proper 
characters, without esteeming their nation more than if 
he had never seen any individual of that nation. You, 
sir," addressing himself more particularly to me, " esteem 
the English more than you did before you visited them." 

" That is very true, sfr, but I esteem England less." 

"That distinction I expected you would make ; but 1 
would permit no other foreigner to make it. He should say 
that he esteemed Englishmen, but admii^ed England." 

I ought to have premised that Mr. L. is remarkably 
liberal, except when a subject is started which may pos- 
sibly touch hard on England ; and though a bitter dis- 
senter, he is not less an Englishman. 

He then asked me if I took notes of whatever made new 
impressions upon me. 

" Yes, sir," I replied, " I shall note the particulars of 
our present conversation." 

" I fear you will prove a severe judge," 

" Why so, sir ? " 

" Your education and principles will lead you to brandish 
the scourge of satire, rather than wanton with the plume 



218 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

of panegyric ; you regard society as a wilderness wliich 
mocks at the pruning-hook and will only yield to the 
ploughshare. You ought not to speak of England before 
you have observed the state of society on the continent." 

" In what respect, sir, do you think I shall suffer my 
prejudices to bias me ? " 

" Why, for instance, you cannot behold a nobleman's 
country-seat with any pleasure ; the cottages of the tenants 
remind you of the feudal system ; you cannot patiently see 
a fine equipage, — the servants before and behind affect you 
with convulsions ; nor can you contemplate his Majesty 
with any complacency, — his guards suggest the pretorian 
bands ; in short, you are not pleased to see a rich man, 
for you immediately begin to calculate the number of the 
poor which one rich man supposes. But, sir, your feelings 
carry you too far ; so long as civil society exists a large 
portion of mankind must be comparatively poor. Riches 
and poverty are convertible terms. The distinctions among 
men are founded in Nature ; as in a forest, you may ol> 
serve that a few trees are kings of the wood, many are 
on an equality and of respectable height, but a greater 
number are mere dwarfs which Nature stints (and these 
in resentment grow crooked and knotty), besides a great 
quantity of furze and underwood." 

" Nay, sir," I replied, " you have no right to use this 
illustration. If the dwarfs, the furze, and the underwood 
suffer by being overshadowed by the kings of the wood, 
your exposition were happy. Besides, sir, Nature, to which 
you appeal, is not so capricious ; you have coupled together 
trees, furze, and underwood, three different species. Now, 
we find in inanimate nature a certain deference to equality 
among members of the same species ; but, sir, if an upas- 
tree were to spring up on the equator and threaten to 
overshadow the whole world, would not every tree of the 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 219 

wood be interested to destroy the poisonous influence of 
this tyrant ? You carry your principles too far, sir." 

He smiled at my impetuosity. 

In passing down Fleet Street we saw at a distance a 
man of enormous and disproportionate body. " Do you see 
that man," said Mr. L., " who is approaching with such 
hard labor ? Twenty years ago he was as healthy, active, 
and well-proportioned as any man in London ; but, unfor- 
tunately, a distant relative left him a large fortune. This 
proved his ruin ; he abandoned himself to indolence and 
high living, consequently to gout and grossness. The fat 
soon began to grow about his eyes, so that now you see 
he IS almost blind ; doubtless another twelvemonth will 
hermetically seal both of his eyes." 

Soon after, he pointed to a little court which we passed, 
observing, " A man lives in a back apartment there who 
could not give a better account of himself for the last 
twenty years tlian could the person we have just seen." 

I asked who he might be. 

" He is an alchemist," said Mr. L., " in search of the 
philosopher's stone ; but," added he, " I have known only 
one discoverer of the secret ; he knew the grand art of 
being happy without it." 

" But, sir, how can you account for it that persons in 
this age should attempt to realize fortunes from those 
speculations wherein thousands have miserably failed and 
not one person has ever succeeded ? Nothing equals this 
in the history of madness and extravagance." 

" Yes," said Mr. L., " notwithstanding every preceding 
adventurer has been ruined, notwithstanding the ridicule 
attached to the pursuit, notwithstanding repeatedly abortive 
experiments, still there are alchemists who persevere in 
search of the philosopher's stone. There are anomalies in 
the minds of men which perplex the deepest research. 



220 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

" We have on record several instances of characters not 
less extraordinary than the alchemists of our day, — the 
character of Proxenus, for instance, as drawn by Xenophon : 

" ^Tavra ovv (piXoTroXefiov /xot BoKel avSpo<; epya elvat, oari'^^ 
i^ou fM6v elpyjVTjv dyeiv dvev ala-^vvr]<i koI ^Xd/Sr}^ aipelrat 
TToXefietv ' e^ov Se paOvfielv, ^ovXerai irovelv ware iroXefielv • 
e^ov Be '^pTJfiaTa e^eLV aKivZvvo}<i, alpelrat, 7ro\e/x(bv [xeiova 
ravra irotelv.^ ^ 

" Not less unaccountable was the bias of the mind of 
Pyrrhus, who projjosed the most arduous and impossible 
exploits as the means of attaining to that eminence which 
he already enjoyed. 

" No other country offers so much encouragement to nov- 
elty, whether useful, capricious, or elegant ; hence every 
new theory, whether of utility or the reverse, is elaborated to 
perfection. As amidst the boundless extravagance of this 
metropolis nothing is lost, so among the still more extrava- 
gant imaginations of men no idea which can be wrought 
into a mechanical, scientific, or literary commodity is suf- 
fered to float in vacuum, but is fashioned or tortured into 
profit. Hence you find thousands of quacks of all descrip- 
tions whose success gives them a degree of respectability, 
not a few of whom have probably become dupes to their 
own quackery." 

" Then, sir," I suggested, " all mankind are quacks ; for 
I have never known a man who had not entire faith in 
certain errors, in support of which he would have set a 
contrary conviction at defiance." 

" Nay, sir," he replied, " tliey are not quacks until they 
expose their commodities to the public, or thrust their sen- 
timents on mankind. If a man really believe he has dis- 
covered a panacea, he is not a quack if the secret remain 
in his own breast. You would not have thought Mahomet 

^ Anabasis, bk. ii. 6 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 221 

an impostor if, after his death, you had found the kuran in 
his cabinet." 

At this moment a quack advertisement was put into 
my hands, and Mr. L. remarked, " There, sir, if that man 
should swallow his own pills he might be a fool, but he 
would not be a quack." 

" With deference, sir, I object to Mahomet ; why would 
he not have been an impostor ? " 

" He would have been, if mankind had been weak enough 
to believe him ; so would the author of the Arabian Nights' 
Entertainments. So also would Jacob Behmen and Eman- 
uel Swedenborg have been impostors so far as their 
works were thought to be real history or divine authority 
rather than the recreations of fancy or the impulses of 
delirium." 

We now approached Ludgate Hill, on the eminence of 
which stands St. Paul's. We visited several apartments 
before we ascended to the cupola. In one of the apart- 
ments there is the ancient model from which St. Paul's 
was built ; and being ignorant of architecture I improved 
the opportunity of learning a few technical terms, I asked 
what a certain part was denominated ; " That is the nave," 
said the person who waited on us. 

" Do you not know," said Mr. L,, " that there is usually 
a nave in a church ? " He added, " Your churches are 
differently modelled." 

I was proud of the compliment, and told him I believed 
the clergy in the United States really were, in point of 
morality and primitive simplicity, an ornament to the 
country, and not unworthy successors of the apostles. 

" To what do you attribute this exemplary carriage ? " 

" To this, sir, that the simplicity of the Gospel has not 
in the United States mingled with politics, and produced a 
religious aristocracy. You know, sir, we have no church 



222 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

establishment ; there is unlimited toleration without po- 
litical restriction. Hence among the various sects there 
is a spirit of Christian emulation." 

" Then you do not think," said Mr. L., " that Jesus 
Christ, at his second coming, will be likely to call on my 
lords the bishops." 

" Our Saviour at his second coming, if he visit any one, 
will visit him who shall have most of his own spirit, and 
will be more likely to enter a cottage than a palace." 

" Yes, he doubtless will, if he appear in his former char- 
acter ; for he would be obliged to work all his miracles over 
again before his lordship the bishop would admit him into 
the parlor. However, I do not think he would come to 
England." 

" Why not, sir ? " 

" They — I do not mean the Jews — would put him to 
death a second time." 

" I do not understand you, sir." 

" Then," said Mr. L., " you do not understand the 
manners of the age." 

When we had ascended to the cupola, 1 reminded him 
of the conversation in the apartment of the church model. 
He resumed the subject, and spoke as follows : — 

" The laws, customs, and opinions of every country, 
whether good or bad,"whether founded in truth or error, 
must be respected. There are two species of treason, — 
one of sentiment, or theoretical, the other overt or prac- 
tical. The latter is regarded by all governments with 
more lenity than the former. An overt act of treason 
has its particular object, and the law has defined the 
nature and punishment of the crime ; but the first named 
species of treason is too subtle for the law. It can neither 
be anticipated nor defined ; hence it is more dangerous, as 
it infects the community without suspicion and tends to 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 223 

revolution without remedy. We ought not to wonder, 
then, at the jealousy of governments when new opinions 
subversive of old maxims are published ; for every govern- 
ment which has not a renovating principle soon becomes a 
tyranny, and is interested in supporting a certain set of 
notions, no matter whether right or wrong. 

" The death of Socrates has been considered in all ages 
an enormity of injustice, scarcely surpassed by the cruci- 
fixion of Jesus Christ. The fate of this man has caused 
lamentation in the pulpit and tears in the closet. Who 
has not sympathized with the old bald philosopher, and 
been ready to burst the prison, snatch the bowl of hemlock 
from his hand and dash it on the floor ? Yet let us for 
a moment inspect the conduct of this philosopher. The 
religion of his country had been settled for ages, yet he 
disturbed the State by introducing new and disparaging 
the established gods. He endeavored, as Cato the Censor 
justly remarked, to abolish the customs of his country, and 
draw the people over to opinions contrary to the laws. In 
what country or in what age would Socrates have fared 
better ? If such a man were to appear in England and 
maintain principles as unconstitutional and as abhorrent 
to the principles of the lords-bishops as those of Socrates 
were inconsistent with the laws and received notions of 
the Athenians, he would awaken a resentment which might 
forget for a moment the lenity of law. 

" The apostle Paul would meet with a worse reception 
in England than he did in Greece or in Rome. If we con- 
sider for a moment his letters to the Greek and to the 
Roman populace, we shall be surprised at the clemency of 
those statesmen who so long tolerated a man whose doc- 
trines, inculcated with elevated contempt, not only trampled 
on the whole national mythology, but entered the cities and 
expelled the auspicious presiding Lares ; nay more, wliose 



224 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

doctrines pervaded the social fire-hearths and cxdomesti- 
cated the hallowed Penates. What has Paine, Priestley, 
or Price, what has Tooke, Wakefield, or Godwin advanced 
so offensive to the feelings of the present age as were the 
principles of Socrates and of Saint Paul to the Atheni- 
ans and the Romans ? Now, if Christ should appear 
in England or in any other country in Europe and con- 
duct himself exactly as he did in Judea, what, sir, do you 
think would be the consequence ? He would doubtless 
find many followers, but the Scribes and Pharisees would 
feel interested — first to deny him, and then to put him 
to death." 

This letter is already too long, therefore you may expect 
in another the conclusion of the expedition to St. Paul's. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXIII. 

London, April 16. 
After the remarks to which the nave in the church gave 
rise, Mr. L. pointing around the horizon observed with 
national complacency : "You see now the metropolis of the 
queen of isles. The name of London excites the envy, the 
hatred, or the admiration of the world. 

" Her fame extends as far as winds can blow, 
Or ships or fish upon the waters flow." 

He added, — "There is more public spirit, there is more 
amor patrice, and when the people are oppressed there is 
more obstinacy of resistance, within the circumference of 
ten miles here, than in all the rest of Europe." Then with 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 225 

an energy wliich transported my thoughts to ancient times, 
he repeated those famous lines of Alcieus : — 

Ov XiOoL, ovhe $vXa, ouSc rexYV tcktovwv ai TroAets, eie;/, aAA oirov 
TTOT uv ojo-LV "ANAPES avTovs o-w^civ ciSdres ivravOa koX Teixrj koL 

TToAets.^ 

" Now," continued Mr. L., "cast your eye on the Thames, 
and contemplate the innumerable merchantmen. The per- 
fumes of Arabia, the luxuries of the South, and the ele- 
gancies of the East are wafted up this silver stream, and 
thence distributed through a thousand channels, to gratify 
the senses of this happy people. Here you find what no 
other people ever witnessed, — luxury and liberty, commerce 
and strength of character." 

" Happy the man," thought I, " who in the midst of mis- 
ery and ruin sees nothing but scenes of felicity. Such an 
one will find flowers in December." 

" You seem to be in a rcvery," said Mr. L. 

" Yes, sir ; I was comparing the English with those 
blessed spirits of Indian paradise, who, reposing half 
intoxicated beside water-falls, on the banks of their ely- 
sium, sleep only to dream of pleasure, and wake only to 
enjoyment. Oh, happy people of Wapping, did you but 
know your happiness ! For you the luxuries of the South 
and the elegances of the East are landed at your doors. 
Oh, fragrant tatterdemalions of St. Giles's, would you but 
incense yourselves with the perfumes of Arabia ! " 

Mr. L. smiling at this outburst, observed that every Picca- 
dilly and Pall Mall must have a St. Giles's, and every Fleet 
Street and Corn hill a Wapping. He then asked me if I 
had ever traced the progress of civil society from its first 

1 The late Arthur W. Austin, Esq., a son of the author of this volume, 
turned these and other lines of Alcaius into verse (see " The Woman and the 
Queen : a Ballad, and Other Specimens of Verse." Boston, IST.'i). The lines 
were also paraphrased by Sir William Jones in his verses entitled, " What 
Constitutes a State." — Ed. 

15 



226 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

rude endeavors to its present state of social affection and 
accommodating polity. 

He added : " Here arc nearly a million of people in Ihis 
small compass, whose interests, views, and pursuits cross 
one another as do the streets ; yet human policy has con- 
trived to divest the people in a great measure of Hobbs's 
principle, and has rendered them the most pliant, docile, 
and submissive of all animals. In a state of Nature cor- 
poral strength dominates the mental faculty. Here, all 
the violences of a state of Nature are usurped under law, 
custom, prerogative, privilege, pride, avarice, and fashion ; 
and what would be considered among barbarians refine- 
ment on barbarity is effected here by mutual consent." 

" I pray you, sir, particularize." 

" Why, for example, do you wish to banish a man from 
his country ? It may be easily effected, at the same time 
you will appear to confer a favor. Do you wish to assas- 
sinate your enemy ? gain his confidence, affect friendship, 
anticipate his feelings, administer to his desires, allure him 
to the precipice, and in the degree he approaches ruin, you 
will rise in his esteem ; but if you wish to imbitter his 
situation ^^'ith a knowledge of your own perfidy, throw him 
into prison, and keep him there for life. If this process be 
too tedious there is a more direct way. If the man l)e in 
business, collude with his creditors and employers. Do you 
wish to see him worn to a skeleton with constant fatigue? 
Garrow shall be made to wear away his eyebrows,^ and 
Erskine and Gibbs shall become sallow in poring over dark 
questions, — darkened still more with the glorious uncer- 
tainty of the law, — while the judge shall daily sit seven 
hours 2 on the Bench, in defiance of gout, gravel, and stone. 

1 Mr. Garrow has no e.vebrows, and no wonder, since he has browbeaten 
so many witnesses. 

2 Tiie Chief-Justice of the Court of King's Bench is daily on the Bench 
seven hours during nearly six months in the year. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 227 

In one word, sir, do you wish to send your enemy to hell, 
advise him to take orders, and offer him promotion in 
the church." 

" But I am most surprised that this immense number of 
people who live at the expense of one another, and who 
have less regard for their neighbors than the savage has 
for his, should contrive to live in a compass so small. 1 
think it worthy of remark that the most populous cities 
have always been the most easily governed." 

" Why," said Mr. L., "those who are most enslaved are 
most obedient to their rulers. If you could put all the 
Chinese, Italians, Germans, and Spaniards into a washing- 
tub, they would be more easily governed. In despotic 
States the people are more quiet and passive than in a 
monarchy like tliis. Hence more enormities are com- 
mitted in England in one year by the. subjects than in any 
other country in Europe ; but, on the other hand, fewer 
injuries are offered to the subjects under the sanction 
of law." 

" This may be true, sir, with respect to England, but how 
happens it that in the United States — a country so free 
that not a few of the savages have preferred it to Lake 
Huron, or the more temperate regions of the South-west 
— fewer enormities arc committed by the subjects there 
than in England. To particularize : In the most strongly 
contested elections there has never been a man slain. They 
cannot say this at Westminster or Nottingham." 

" It is of little consequence to your people, who their 
legislators are, so long as the Constitution is administered 
on its own principles. Now the probability is, that of 
two, three, or more candidates, all will support the Con- 
stitution. Hence in most elections, there is at present 
with your people no other than a personal motive of 
prefereilce." 



228 LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 

" I instanced but one particular. Can you give as good 
a reason wliy there are fewer crimes of every description 
committed in the United States, by citizens, than in any 
other country ? " 

Mr. L. candidly allowed that the difference is to be attrib- 
uted to the system of government. 

Mr. L. then gave the conversation another turn and 
remarked, — " There was once a merchant in extensive 
business — a man of deep calculation and great foresight 
— who ascended St. Paul's to command a view of the city. 
He took a map from his pocket, and stood some time in 
melancholy musing, when he exclaimed, ' Here is a true 
picture of worldly greatness ; this city has already cost 
more than it will ever be worth ! ' What," said Mr. L., "do 
you imagine was the process of this merchant's mind ? " 

To this it was replied : " Perhaps he was a West India 
proprietor, or an East India director, or a great stock job- 
ber ; perhaps he was all these together, and possibly, he had 
been in both Indies and had seen in the East those jungles ^ 
of which Cornwallis, the successor of Mr. Hastings, wrote 
to the Company. If so, the ethereal air of this eminence 
might, for a moment, have elevated his mind above personal 
consideration, and led him to compare the affluence and 
happiness of London with the misery and oppression of all 
those who are the sources of your greatness. Then casting 
his eye on the map, and reflecting how large a portion of 
the globe was at that moment suffering for the aggrandize- 
fnent of a few merchants, he was naturally led to exclaim, 
' Auri sacra fames ! ' " 

While I was saying this, I perceived that Mr. L. was 
collecting himself for a violent explosion. In his opinion, 

1 Cornwallis wrote to the East India Company that three fifths of the 
Company's territory had become a jungle ; that is, deserted by the natives, and 
possessed by wild beasts, meaning thereby lions, tigers, leopards, etc., not 
Englishmen. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 229 

I had not been sufficiently respectful toward the majesty of 
old England. 

"Sir," said he, "you have totally mistaken the mer- 
chant's meaning. He was a notorious miser, who came 
here for the pleasure of contemplating the various situation 
of his own estates, but being apprehensive of the depreci- 
ation of real estate ho was alarmed for his property. Com- 
merce, which you affect to undervalue, is the grand pillar 
of our strength and magnificence. In these times, a 
small extent of territory must be commercial in order to 
maintain its entirety and independence ; the people, occu- 
pied in commerce and manufactures, must depend for pro- 
tection on the military resources which wealth insures, or 
at least suffer a dismemberment of the kingdom. Destroy 
our commerce and you instantly wither the heart of Eng- 
land ; those thousand veins which lead from a thousand 
distant extremities in so many directions to this centre, 
would cease to nourish their parent source." 

This was conclusive, so far as it related singly to Eng- 
land ; but I could not refrain from remarking that there is 
no mutual benefit, for England takes profit of the veins, but 
affords not a single artery. We now descended. 

After I returned home, I fell into a revery. " Here is a 
country," thought I, "whose greatness is built on the oppres- 
sion and slavery of all those who are connected with her ; 
wherever England has laid her hand, she has left the print 
of her fingers. Wherever she has trodden, she has blasted 
vegetation. Of whatever country she has gotten possession, 
she has reduced it, either to a state of slavery or to desola- 
tion. The moment her influence is felt, it either rouses the 
spirit of emigration, or impels to immediate flight.^ The 

1 Yet the government of England, when it destroys its enemies, adores 
God's righteous judgment ; when it is likely to suffer, it cries out in the name 
of heaven and earth against the diabolical machinations of its enemies. 



230 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

fertile fields of Ireland show noble cattle, but a fine har- 
vest is a blessing to her oxen, not to her people, — they are 
excluded from God's providence. Even Scotland, reduced 
far below the state of Nature, and weary of the sight of her 
dear native hills, banishes herself forever to the frontiers 
of America. Nor is England much more enviable ; she 
starves her subjects to fatten her horses. If this be the 
state of things under the wing of the Constitution, what 
may be expected at the extremities of the empire ? If Eng- 
land's West India possessions were sufficiently extensive to 
drain Africa, in ten years the race of negroes would be 
extinct.' The East is more involved in darkness ; and 
perhaps it is more honorable to humanity, and to the hon- 
orable East India Company, that this history should never 
be written or mentioned." 

Help me bless God, my dear fellow, that the United 
States are not within the influence of this upas, and that 
we are nationally guilty of but one enormity, — I mean the 
toleration of slavery. 

Oh, heaven ! is it possible that in the United States, a 
country where the purest principles of legislation which 
ever adorned civil society hold sway ; a country in which 
the human character is already elevated to a superior 
degree, as compared with the miserable people of Europe ; 
a country whose principles, tested by their present opera- 
tion, are to influence future ages and perhaps sanction the 
basest crimes, — is it possible that in such a country, you 
can find a " slave to be sold " ? 

What abominable impudence ! What unheard* of incon- 
sistency ! Let other people who do not acknowledge our 
feelings and our principles, enslave and be enslaved. 

1 It has been ascertained that the West India planters are obliged to im- 
port annually at the rate of ten per cent, on their stock. I submit this to 
Lord Thurlow. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 231 

Europe is not inconsistent ! She never acknowledged the 
rights of man. In England, — whose oppressions have 
travelled with the revolution of the globe, have explored 
new oceans, and have extended to the four quarters of the 
world, — a negro is as free as a Briton. I blush for my 
country; and I have been made by Englishmen to blush 
for my country. Adieu. 



LETTER XXIV. 



London, April 22. 

The south of Europe has long been accustomed to call 
the English barbarians. Tlie weaker character, which 
suffers from the stronger, is readily disposed to strong epi- 
thets. The degenerate Greeks termed the Romans bar- 
barians. A nation of slaves will always be inclined to 
consider their neighbors barbarous, in the degree they 
approach natural freedom. This opinion of foreigners 
ought to flatter the English ; they would be little disposed 
to become like their neighbors in order to be more 
civilized. 

That people, whoever they may be, who for a thousand 
years have neither changed their constitution of govern- 
ment nor their religion, nor suffered the forcible and 
infectious intercourse of foreigners, but whose laws, cus- 
toms, manners, and sentiments, kindly bending with time 
and circumstance, are nothing more than emanations from 
the spirit of their government, will regard the English 
as a monstrous sort of people. 

However, it must be conceded that foreigners have some 
little color for their opinion, though they are not suffi- 



232 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

ciently candid to inquire the reason. The Enghsh have 
been so frequently bandied about and suffered so many 
modifications within a thousand years that one part of 
their character is at least two centuries behind the other. 
, This will ever be the case where the original stock of a 
nation like the English has suffered so many ingraf tings 
and revolutions. In order that laws, customs, and manners 
may keep pace with civilization, it is necessary that the 
people should preserve their principles and their individ- 
uality, and be neither retarded nor hastened in their career. 
But if a people be not free when they enter the social con- 
federacy, those checks which they may receive and those 
foreign inroads which will partially destroy their individu- 
ality are as likely to benefit as to injure. 

The English, you very well know, have been peculiarly 
subject to those impressions which revolutions leave 
behind ; and no revolution can happen without exciting 
the worst passions into action, and transmitting them to 
posterity. 

As we learn from history, this people were at one time 
little better than savages. Propitious events have led them 
to comparative freedom ; but these events have rendered 
the English the most complex characters in Europe by 
not always happening at that period of their civilization 
which was most conducive to their advantage. I give an 
instance. 

From the moment Magna Charta was signed, the Eng- 
lish fancied themselves free ; the nobles, indeed, attained 
their object. The people also were proclaimed free ; but 
they had not more of the spirit of freemen than has the 
slave who rests on his spade and listens to the song of 
liberty. They were not then ready for freedom. The 
issue of the Revolution of 1688 was the best constitution 
of government which modern Europe — which perhaps the 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 233 

world had ever witnessed. The English were then free ; 
unfortunately their freedom came too late. Liberty for 
the first time found herself seated on the couch of com- 
merce. The consequence might have been foreseen ; an 
evil has grown up with the English Constitution which has 
long since proved its ruin. 

There is but one period allotted to any people in which 
they can establish their freedom. Prior to this period they 
are too barbarous ; posterior to this period they are too 
civilized. The Romans under the auspices of Lucius 
Junius Brutus seized the happy moment. In process of 
time they gradually lost their liberty ; yet they knew not 
precisely how nor when ; but lost it certainly was in the 
days of Marius and Sulla. Brutus, some time after, en- 
deavored to restore the liberty of his country, but it was 
too late. Lacedeemon offers a similar remark. Lycurgus 
established what might then be called freedom ; but after 
a few centuries, neither Agis nor Cleomenes could renovate 
departed principles. 

I will also instance the Reformation. This happened at 
a period fortunate for the people. The Roman Catholic 
religion when it has its proper operation, is an effeminate 
religion and tends to precocious civilization. Had the Eng- 
lish continued Roman Catholics until now they would have 
been much weaker characters than they are at present. 
Though the Reformation strengthened the national char- 
acter of the English, yet a change of religion in any coun- 
try will awaken the most ferocious passions, unless there 
be an absolute toleration without political restriction and 
disability. The injuries which the Dissenters, who are 
one-fifth part of the nation, have suffered from the Church 
of England, and, on the other hand, the hard feelings which 
the Churchmen indulge against the Dissenters have given 
an impression little favorable to the English character. 



234 LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 

Political dissensions, which have been urged further in 
England than among any other people except those who 
ranged themselves as Guelphs or Ghibellines, have also 
served to render this people barbarians in the eyes of 
foreigners. 

The beheading of Charles the First, the usurpation of 
Cromwell, and the consequences of the abdication of 
James the Second, all had their effects. It is unnecessary 
to revert so far back as the days of York and Lancaster. 

In the opinion of foreigners, the inhuman code of crimi- 
nal law tolerated by the English is little favorable to the 
national character. If we reason only from their criminal 
laws, without reference to the state of society, it would be 
a fair conclusion that the English are either the worst or 
the most barbarous people on earth. They have very hu- 
manely abolished torture, but they have retained the death- 
penalty. Their humanity cannot endure the broken arm, 
the lacerated body, the quivering flesh of the criminal ; 
but a simple hanging affects them as little as the loss of a 
sheep, a sorry horse, or forty shillings. I have heard 
Erskine laboriously address a jury, in the presence of the 
Chief-Justice of England, in behalf of five pounds ; yet if 
a man's life be at stake, no counsel is allowed the felon, 
whatever may be the palliating circumstances, lest the 
jury, more humane than the law, should be driven to 
compassion. 

The commonalty of the English have a most ferocious 
appearance ; but, as far as I have observed, it is only an 
appearance. We cannot expect that the deportment of 
those who bear the whole weight of society should be so 
engaging, or their countenances so rounded with compla- 
cency, or their dispositions so placid as we should expect, if 
their lives were exempt from the pressure of daily anxiety. 
If two men have oricrinallv the same features, different 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 235 

pursuits will so entirely change their physiognomies that 
Lavater would have classed them in different species. 
Another pursuit might have converted the hard features 
and sallow complexion of the lawyer into the round 
lineaments and ruddy glow of the bishop.^ 

In fine, a people who have suffered so many impressions 
as have the English cannot have a nicely distinct char- 
acter ; like the senators of Tiberius, they will be likely to 
have all the airs of freemen, with the conduct of slaves ; 
and to those who are both slaves in their manners and 
actions the English will seem barbarians ; yet these bar- 
barians have been governed by women, and were quiet 
subjects under petticoat government. 

There are only two marks in England of a very bar- 
barous people. The first concerns the inhabitants of Lon- 
don and the other great cities only, a large portion of 
whom spend their days below the surface of the earth. 
This is owing to the lack of accommodation, which 
obliges them to convert their cellars into kitchens. The 
other mark concerns the women only ; like many barbarous 
people they paint, but with this difference, — the former 
to look like angels, the latter to look like the devil. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXV. 

London, April 29. 
The English ordinaries and eating-houses offer an in- 
exhaustible source of observation on the national character 
and manners. You meet not only with all descriptions of 

1 The business meu are chiefly conversant in tioes not only give a cer- 
tain cast or turn to their minds, but is very often apparent in their outward 
behavior. — Spectator, No. 197. 



236 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

London people, but likewise with French, Irish, Scotch, 
and country people ; and you may choose your company, 
from the most humble to the most exalted ; that is, you 
may choose the price of your dinner, from sixpence to a 
guinea. You are not troubled with the least ceremony ; if 
you wish for nothing more than a dinner, you have only to 
enter these places, hang up your hat or keep it on your 
head, sit down, look at your bill of fare, call for your din- 
ner, pay for it, and go away. 

A Londoner generally enters the room and observes no- 
body, plants himself firmly at the table, then in an airy 
manner breaks his bread in halves, falls to, says not a word 
during his dinner, — which he masticates rather slowly, 
yet swallows too quickly for his health, — rises from table 
in resolute reserve, and retires from the room as he would 
from a cavern. The Frenchman, on the contrary, makes a 
general bow when he enters, no matter who the company 
may be, carefully hangs up his hat, sits and adjusts him- 
self, cuts his bread, eats his dinner rapidly, sits a little 
while, converses, and retires with a general bow. 

If you are willing to make an effort, you may often en- 
gage a Londoner in conversation,* especially if he thinks 
you are a grade above him, otherwise he may regard you 
as impertinent. The Scotch, Irish, and country people 
are more sociable at table, — the country, people from 
curiosity, the Scotch with a view to information, ilie Irish 
frequently from a love of rodomontade. 

However reserved and indifferent people may be, they 
never so fairly lay themselves open as at their meals. On 
no other occasions did the pagan gods and goddesses so 
openly betray their origin in human invention as at their 
jovial feasts of nectar and ambrosia. At table, the 
divine forgets his system, the physician his last fatal ex- 
periment, and the lawyer no longer casts a side glance 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 237 

at his neighbor's pocket. All being on an equality at 
these places, those who are so disposed feel no embar- 
rassment in giving themselves up to their natural im- 
pulses. The most grave will sometimes be induced to for- 
get their affectation, while those who claim their parentage 
from Mercury and hold to the " dulce est dissipere in 
loco " desire no better place to worship the god than these 
liberal institutions afford. Not knowing that they shall 
ever see one another again, they scarcely feel responsible 
for the sentiments they utter, and hence they sport their 
opinions on men and things, and not infrequently throw 
out, as though by chance, dubious yet favorite notions, 
in order to ascertain their probable currency with the 
world. 

If you wish to study human nature you can see it in all 
alive, provided you are willing to adapt yourself. There 
is not a grade in society with which you may not familiar- 
ize yourself ; but then it is necessary to have a various and 
extensive wardrobe, otherwise you will miss your object. 
Under the late administration, the Venetian custom of 
spying out people's opinions was adopted ; so that every 
man was suspicious of the company in which he chanced 
to be. It is not exactly so now, though I have been 
shocked more than once by the remains of this poison 
of social intercourse. Figure to yourself a party of 
strangers flung back in their chairs in all the security 
of good-humor and ingenuous remark, struck dumb on 
the entrance of a person suspected for a pointer of gov- 
ernment commissioned to scent out sedition. You would 
imagine the Roman " delators " revived again. Had I been 
in London during certain late years I should have felt 
myself at Venice, and should never liave passed Cold Bath 
Fields without being reminded of the Inquisition. How 
different in the United States ! If a person dislikes the 



238 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

administration of government he says so in the open mar- 
ket, in the public streets, in popular assemblies, nay, more 
— a custom which I disapprove — in the pulpit, in those 
places dedicated to divine harmony ! If his abuse be 
mingled with any sort of reason it is listened to ; if it 
be scurrilous, it is only laughed at, or rendered harmless 
by inattention. In a good government seditious infection 
is never dangerous ; it is not contagious ; it cannot find 
matter on which to operate ; by its dissipation it is rarefied, 
cleansed, or annihilated. 

The same person, if he choose, in the course of a week 
may parade Bond Street in the morning ; ^ gamble in the 
evening with knights and noblemen ; show himself at 
Ilungcrford's, and discourse of redoubts, battles, sieges, or 
broadsides, captures, and prize-money ; shift his dress, and 
dine and dance Avith the beggars in St. Giles's ; look in at 
the Stock Exchange Coffee-House, and affect the man of 
business ; or go to Wapping, be entertained for sixpence, 
and pass himself off for an accomplished sailor. 

No wonder the London wits should write good comedies ; 
they can pick up a character every day ; and if they are at 
a loss for a whole character they can readily put together 
two halves. A stock-jobber and a politician will always 
make an excellent knave ; and if a pensioner with a 
courtier will not make a complete parasite, they can add 
a lord bishop. I am acquainted with a comic writer who 
told me he met a man at an ordinary who afforded him the 
hero of his most successful comedy ; but it cost him, he 
added, more than a week before he could perfectly catch 
his hero. 

If you wish to know how the petty cooks can afford to 

1 Those who are termed " Bond-Street loungers " consider mid-day mid- 
night ; hence three o'clock in the afternoon is early dawn. These gentlemen 
are frugal in one respect, — they save their breakfasts. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 239 

give you a dinner for sixpence or less, I will tell you what 
I learned at Wapping, where I dined for fourpence half- 
penny including a farthing to the waiter, who was very 
much obliged to me. I was told it was the custom of the 
more respectable ordinaries and eating-houses to sell their 
leavings to the next less great houses ; these in their turn 
sell again, so nothing is lost ; but a part of that dinner 
which is eaten at a high price at the west end of the town 
is eaten at Wapping, perhaps a fortnight after, for four- 
pence. Thus the delicious viands of the rich degenerate 
at length into twopenny broth for the poor. This may 
offend a delicate stomach, but hunger never reasons, and 
as the sailors say, " Poison is killed by boiling, and what 
will not poison you will fatten you." Some of these cook- 
shops boast of more liberality than others. They give you 
a tablecloth, a pewter plate and a spoon, and do not de- 
mand your money until you have dined ; while others will 
make you pay before you eat a mouthful, and will trust you 
with nothing but a wooden plate, a wooden bowl and a 
wooden spoon. 

The different sorts of men whom you meet at these 
places are remarkable. If it did not excite the most de- 
basing ideas, it would be humorous to converse some- 
times with a class of men you find at these places, whose 
stupid ignorance would disgrace a Hottentot. If they 
have half an idea, they know not enough of the English 
language to convey even that. They seem to have been 
born in a cockle-shell and have never burst their confine- 
ment. Locke possibly got his opinion that the human 
mind was like a blank sheet of paper from his knowledge 
of this description of men, whom you may find in every 
cook-shop. They are so profoundly stupid, they scarcely 
know whence they came, where they are, or whither they 
are going ; yet frequently they possess a remarkable 



240 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

sagacity in whatever is directly connected with their oc- 
cupations, — a fair proof that they once had minds capable 
of discernment. Therefore they ought not to be classed 
by naturalists as a distinct species, though they are gen- 
erally considered such by certain politicians. 

As you know not who your company are, you may be as 
likely to dine with a pickpocket as with a saint. One day, 
after a genteel person, whose conversation was very intelli- 
gent, had retired from table, I was asked if 1 knew him. 
Answering in the negative, I was informed that he was 
reputed to be a highwayman. This will i)robably surprise 
you, but it ought not. In such a city as this, and in such 
a country, where, if a man is willing to brave suspicion, the 
law waits until he affords full proof, a person may pos- 
sibly pass the greater part of his life in the business of a 
highwayman, parade the public walks every day, and even 
affect the highest style of splendor, and all the while under 
the strongest suspicions, yet no one will venture to arrest 
him, or to charge him with his crimes. Although a thou- 
sand witnesses should testify that they were robbed, and 
could almost testify they were robbed by the prisoner, yet 
they must more than almost identify his person, which is 
extremely difficult on account of his mask ; otherwise he 
would assuredly be acquitted. Our own criminal laws are 
similar. The same person who informed me of this reputed 
highwayman, remarked that most persons of this class are 
well known to the Bow-Street " runners." * Like other as- 
sociated bodies, they frequently assemble at known public- 
houses and the Bow-Street runners are on tolerable civil 
terms with them. For instance, if one of these runners 
should demand admittance to their assemblies, which is 
frequently the case, he would be admitted, though treated 
in the most laconic style. Thus : " Whom do you want ?" 

1 GflBcers of justice employed to pursue suspected persons. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 241 

The runner names the person if he sees him, who replies, 
" I will wait on you directly." If the runner says the per- 
son whom he wants is not there, the reply is, "Well, then, 
off and be damned ! " Such persons as are arrested and 
carried off are called " flats " by their associates. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXYl. 



London, May 8. 

I PURPOSE in this letter to answer your important ques- 
tion respecting the Constitution of the United States ; and 
to render the subject less tedious, I shall introduce the 
English system by way of comparison. 

The Constitution of England is said to be the strongest 
form of government which the world has witnessed. This 
is too general : a government may be very strong in its 
political operations, and yet of very brief duration. A 
strong government implies stability as well as energy. 
Otherwise an absolute monarchy is the strongest of all 
the three original forms. Age, not energy and dispatch, 
is the mark of a strong government ; still, duration is not 
a sure sign of its excellence. 

It will be worth the labor to prove that the government 
of the United States is as strong as that of England. I 
shall go further, and from the natural bias of man's mind, 
reasoning on the causes of revolution, shall satisfy you, I 
believe, from analogy, that the Constitution of the United 
States is even stronger than that of England. 

Dating from 1692, the Constitution of England is one 
hundred and eleven years old. An Englishman will prob- 
ably date from the reign of King John ; but with whatever 

16 



242 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

triumph he should appeal to Magna Charta, the successive 
tyrannies which the nation experienced down to the time of 
James the First were still more ignominious, if England 
really had a free Constitution to which to appeal. What 
clieck had Henry the Eighth, or with what reference did 
Elizabeth govern England ? Her authority was a perfect 
despotism, confessedly mild, but undefined and uncon- 
trolled, which frowned down all opposition into disaffection 
and treason. James the First, though personally as weak 
as the Emperor Claudius, felt himself not less absolute; 
and Charles the Second, had he been less a buffoon, might 
have revived the days of Henry the Eighth. 

The English would be wise to appeal to history in sup- 
port of one dubious point only, — which, if true, is wortliy of 
the remark, " If we were once slaves, we are now free." 
Most people are tied down to the sorry reflection, " If we 
were once free, we are now slaves." 

Allowing the Constitution of England to be as old as 
Magna Charta — which I myself would allow, could I find 
a single reason for so doing — it unfortunately proves too 
much ; for the repeated revolutions England has undergone 
since that period argue a weakness, which totally destroys 
every claim to stability. 

The Constitution of England is one hundred and eleven 
years old, that of the United States only fourteen. Roth 
have this merit, — a change of public officers may happen 
in either country without a revolution, or, to speak more 
precisely, without affecting the Constitution. That this 
total change should occur in England there is scarcely a 
remote possibility, because, agreeably to Mr. Burke's posi- 
tion, the king himself enjoying the fee simple of the British 
empire, and his own consent being necessary to effect such 
a change, it cannot be expected a king of Great Britain will 
surrender his family inheritance. The change of public 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 243 

officers has already happened in the United States, and 
successive changes will more firmly establish the Constitu- 
tion. The sovereign people perceiving how easily a change 
may be wrought when the government is either weakly or 
corruptly administered, will not be disposed to proceed to 
those violences which are necessary in England, if the 
original compact between the people and government 
should be so far superseded as to warrant a revolution. 

The Constitution of England cannot be contemplated ex- 
cept with reference to King, Lords, and Commons. Hence 
the affections of the subjects are regulated by their con- 
sideration for the reigning prince, and by the degree of 
respect which the House of Lords attaches to itself, but 
particularly by the independence or facility of the House of 
Commons. Thus the long reign of a weak prince, succes- 
sive unpopular ministers, together with an unprincipled 
House of Commons, would weaken, if they did not ren- 
der contemptible, the Constitution. In the United States 
the citizen contemplates the existing administration with- 
out a necessary reference to the Constitution ; they are two 
distinct things. Now, no administration can be long in 
power without becoming in a certain degree odious ; and 
this odium attaches to the Constitution in the degree that a 
change of administration is more or less practicable. But 
the citizens of the United States are in no danger of this 
disaffection. There is scarcely a possibility that abuses 
should gain strength in spite of the Constitution ; there is 
no danger that the first abuse will take root, perpetuate it- 
self, and rise to enormity. In one word, the Parliament 
does not so much flow from the Constitution of England, 
as the Constitution flows from the Parliament. The King, 
Lords, and Commons are, in a very great degree, para- 
mount to the Constitution, while the Constitution of the 
United States is paramount to the Congress. 



244 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Further, the Constitution of England is unwritten, and 
known only to the people by its operation. It has indeed 
been questioned if the English have any real Constitution. 
Whatever is undefined cannot admit of reasoning. Argu- 
ment may forever flutter round the dubious point, but can 
never rest. More than this, the most carefully worded 
statutes arc frequently defeated by the ingenuity of the 
lawyers, and every new act of Parliament extends the field 
of litigation. To what a labored debate did the question 
of our federal judiciary give rise ! Yet both parties con- 
stantly appealed to the first section of the third article of 
the Constitution which contains but seven lines. Now, 
if the sagacity of the wise be frequently liable to wander 
in doubt, or falter in perplexity, an unwritten Constitu- 
tion is prima facie much worse than none, by reason 
of its lending itself on all occasions as a sanction to 
Parliament. 

Let us confess the truth : the English are the freest peo- 
ple in Europe. Whence does this arise ? From that portion 
of the Constitution called the common law, which recog- 
nizes three grand popular prerogatives, — the right of per- 
sonal liberty, the right of personal security, and the right 
of private property. One might suppose that the English- 
man intrenched behind these, would hurl defiance at oppres- 
sion ; Init unfortunately these prerogatives are continually 
liable to be superseded by a paramount prerogative of the 
Constitution. Insure an Englishman his common law, and 
he will scarcely contend for his Constitution : while the citi- 
zen of the United States not only reposes under tlio protec- 
tion of the common law, which certainly is well calculated 
for people aslecj), but he awakes to assert and claim the 
positive rights of a well-defined Constitution. 

The common law is founded on equality, its chief excel- 
lence. This sometimes gives the lowest of the Endish a 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 245 

dignity to which slaves are insensible. But the common 
law is barely protective, while the Constitution offers lit- 
tle on which the people may rest their fondest hopes. 
Not so the Constitution of the United States ; with all 
the equality of the common law it acts on the citizens as 
an incentive, not only to all the political but also to the 
moral virtues ; the Constitution attributes nothing to fam- 
ily, nothing to riches, nothing to reflected merit. He who 
was born a beggar frequently arrives at a condition in 
which he might retort on a nobleman, " My ancestors are a 
disgrace to me ; you are a disgrace to your ancestors." 
Hence with the poorest, love of the Constitution becomes a 
passion, and mingles with their sentiments and actions, 
mingles with their religion, mingles with their life. In 
England, on the other hand, the most felicitous and gen- 
erous feelings of which man is capable are cautiously cher- 
ished, or blighted in youth. It is justly considered in the 
United States that all those honors and riches which de- 
scend to a great man's posterity, would be a direct injury 
to the greatest men in the republic. A great man founds 
a new family ; but his posterity, from age to age, do not 
inherit the rights of the great ancestor ; they cannot do 
this unless they inherit his ability. They usurp the natural 
rights of some other man equally great ^ with the founder 
of the family, but who has been necessarily excluded by rea- 
son of hereditary succession because rewards and honors in 
every State must be restricted within certain bounds. It is 
not for me to determine who, but some one of the nobility 
in England possesses the natural rights of Home Tooke, 
and some other nobleman possesses those of William 
Windham. ^ 

1 If every century prodnces an equal number of great men, this is precisely 
true. 

2 If natural ability be frequently perverted in England, it is the fault of 
the Constitution. A great plebeian must either be hanged, pensioned, or 



246 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

I w ill illustrate : If tlic first characters in the United 
States should he ennobled, the ofiices of honor and emolu- 
ment would naturally flow from them to their heirs. In 
cases of emergency, indeed, if the descendants were not 
equal to great occasions, necessity would compel the gov- 
ernment to summon to its aid the plebeian great. Hence in 
England you find a Chatham, a Hardwicke, a Smith, and a 
Duncan. Nobiliores viri factis quam gcnere. If the re- 
mote relatives of the nobility had been barely competent, 
these great men would have sunk under the ascendency of 
those who so frequently rise like air balloons, and rise 
pretty much on the same principle, — for want of weight. 
Now, if the heirs of this nobility were permitted to repre- 
sent their great ancestors, long before they had arrived at 
the age of thirty years there would be an equal numl)er of 
men great as the ancestors of these heirs, of most of whom 
it might well be said that it would have been better both 
for themselves and society if they had been born idiots. 
Hence every noble sentiment of which plebeians are suscep- 
tible would be early suppressed, or, if indulged, would ])e 
more likely to lead to disgrace than to usefulness. A citi- 
zen of the United States has nothing to fear from this usur- 
pation ; on the contrary, the reflection that his children 
start in the race of life at the same moment with their con- 
temporaries, and the assurance that their merits will not 
be overshadowed and blasted by hereditary usurpation open 
to each citizen new resources, and insure the parental du- 
ties ; hence, the child is educated to love that Constitution 

titled. Tonke nearly underwent the former fate : Wimlham, more fortunate, 
was niaile Sooretary at War. 

I emlirare tliis opportunity of offering my esteem to one of the greatest, 
wisest, best, and most injured men in England. Tlorne Tooke lias ever 
labored umler a most di.sgraceful and multiform oppression, which has fre- 
quently ended in the base.st exertions of his enemies. Unfortunate man ! 
had destiny cast your lot on our shores, you would have been revered whilo 
living, as much as you yet will be when dead. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 247 

under which his youth is passed ; and hence the strength of 
our government consists in that alone which is competent 
to its destruction. 

Whatever may be the power of a State, however prompt 
the executive and however inexhaustible the treasury even, 
without the affections of the people all is false, all hollow, 
all artificial. In vain docs the government nail up its 
authority on every post, if it is not cherished in the hearts 
of the people. In vain will a few purchased voices cry. 
Long live King Richard ! In one night Pelopidas over- 
turned a tyranny. In the height of his power Dionysius 
found himself deserted in Syracuse. " Huic tantoe tem- 
pestati quum se consules obtulissent, facile experti sunt, 
parum tutam majestatem sine viribus esse." 

Let us suppose a case. If a revolution should be at- 
tempted in the United States, who would be the actors, to 
whom would they apply, and what method would they 
adopt? Would they, like Catiline,^ address the people: 
" Nobis reliquere pericula, repulsas, judicia, egestatem. 
Quae quousque tandem patiemini, fortissimi viri ? Nonne 
emori . . . prgestat, quam vitam miseram atque inhonestam, 
. . . per dedecus amittere ? . . . Etenim quis mortalium, 
cui virile ingenium, tolerare potest, illis divitias supcrare, 
quas profundant in extruendo mari et montibus coa^quan- 
dis, nobis rem familiarem etiam ad necessaria deesse ? illos 
binas aut amplius domes continuare, nobis larem famili- 
arem nusquam uUum esse " ? Or would they apply to the 
rich, and attempt to weaken their confidence by explain- 
ing the little consideration which the Constitution attaches 
to wealth as due to an odious spirit of equality which be- 
reaves the pride of affluence of half its importance ; or, 
more successfully, would they promise future grandeur, 
the charms of aristocracy, and the self-complacency of 

1 Sallust. Catilina, xx. 



248 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

licreditary succession ? "What a singular paradox ! Tlie 
conspirators would cautiously avoid every man, that is, the 
great body of the pco])lc, who earn their bread by ]»cr- 
sonal industry, and would fly from all those who enjoy a 
golden competency. Singular paradox ! The rich alone 
would be actors in the revolution, and the poor ^ would be 
the supporters of government ! On one side you would 
see only those whose ambition had overstepped the proper 
bounds, and whose riches had only added to their restless- 
ness ; on the other, the great mass of the citizens, know- 
ing that a revolution would not benefit them, but terminate 
in aristocracy, would su})port the Constitution as the grand 
jiillar of their own consequence. Hence the Constitution 
is as strong as natural affection, and as durable as self- 
interest. It destroys some of the Avorst and enlists in its 
sujjport some of the best passions of which human nature 
is susceptible. It lops off the efiicicnt cause of revolution, 
and impels to pati-iotism. It is founded in popular feeling, 
and is considered by the people as a part of their property, 
as a part of their blood, as a part of their very life ; and 
hence the strength of this Constitution consists in that 
alone which is competent to its destruction. 

You are now prepared, I believe, for the following 
maxim : " A revolution cannot happen until it ought to 
happen." This maxim is founded in human feeling, and 
rests on the broad basis of exi)ericnce. A pcojilc blessed 
with a good government arc themselves the surest pledges 
of its support. Need I appeal to Sparta, Athens, Rome, 
confessedly the best and most durable governments of an- 
tifpiity ? The loug continuance of despotic power proves 
nothing; where the will of the prince governs, his violent 

' Kich nnd poor arc convortililo terms; therefore in every country there 
will be rich and poor. Hut poverty, in the European meaning of the word, 
docs not find a i)lacc in the United States. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 249 

death begets a revolution, although his successor be 
equally absolute. Thus by consulting history, absolute 
monarchies will be found to have undergone more frequent 
revolutions than republics. Hence governments have ever 
been found to be weak in the degree they have been abso- 
lute. A great prince, indeed, may during his life give the 
impression of durability to his rule ; but his successor 
usually proves the inanity of power without personal char- 
acter. At this moment I should be obliged to consult 
history to know who were the successors of Alexander, 
Chai'lemagne, or Alfred the Great. 

In no instance recorded in history have the people 
hazarded a revolution prematurely : they have indeed at- 
tempted many too late. It is characteristic of every body 
of men in subjection to suffer long before they appeal to 
the last resort. The enterprise demands such an effort, 
such vigor, such a degree of secrecy and unity of action 
that most people are already slaves before they confess it 
to one another. They hear the clanking of other men's 
chains before they seem to feel the weight of their own. 
Yet it is a favorite declamation with the pupils of that 
school which Mr. Burke opened in prospect of a lordship, 
that there is no political monster but the people — no 
tyrant but the multitude. 

Now, if a revolution cannot happen until it ought to 
happen, the Constitution of the United States is pre-emi- 
nent in strength over all otlier forms of government. 
There are not sufficient materials wherewith to work a 
revolution. It is not in human extravagance to act with- 
out an object of action ; and happily the most dangerous 
passions are rendered inefficient or subservient. Ambition, 
indeed, may soar to the empyrean, but unless its object be 
heavenly it must descend to prey on its own carcass. The 
Federal Constitution has not only expelled every humor 



250 LETTERS FIJOM LONDON. 

which might injure the habit, but has lojjpcd off every ex- 
crescence which might fret the body. Nor is this all ; its 
regenerative spirit, operating at short intervals, j)rescrvc3 
its youth and gives it immortal vigor, so that the principle 
of revolution is a part of the system. 

The productive causes of revolution are restriction and 
exclusion on the one part, and usurpation on the other. 
In the latter particular our Constitution has nothing to 
fear ; the first step of usurpation is the last ; nor has the 
Constitution more to fear from restriction and exclusion. 
It remained for the people of the United States to ex- 
hibit the happiest sight which philosophy ever witnessed. 
The extremities of all the religions in the world might 
meet in a circle. " Incredibile memoratu est quam facile 
coaluerint." ^ Hence unlimited toleration, incapacitated 
by no political disability and no invidious exclusion, not 
only teaches the citizen to respect other men's opinions or 
to regard them with indifference, but strengthens the gov- 
ernment by lopping off one principal exciting cause of 
revolution. Should the Constitution of England be threat- 
ened, the Dissenters, to say the least, would either sit with 
their arms folded as if in triumph, or in a sort of anxious 
indifference. 

It is the property of most governments to grow strong 
l)y usurping the rights of the people ; and when the ex- 
ecutive, like the northern whirlpool seizes and swallows up 
everything within its reach, then the government lays 
claim to dignity and energy ; but this strength is as base- 
less as an inverted pyramid, or is like the water-spout, 
which, in the moment of its greatest strength and tower- 
ing pride, finds its level with the ocean. In a considerable 
degree the government of England partakes of the nature 
of the northern whirlpool, in that it has seized and swal- 

1 Sallust. Catilina, vi. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 251 

lowed up the rights of the Dissenters, and moreover has 
weakened itself in proportion to their strength. It is like 
the inverted pyramid in that its chief strength, built 
originally on the canon law, partially ameliorated, and on 
the feudal system, partially corrected, flows from the head 
and not from the heart of the social compact. It is like 
the water-spout, in that its abuses, for want of an effectual 
regenerative principle, are in danger of accumulating until 
they rise to that pitch of enormity which naturally cures 
itself. 

On the contrary, the Constitution of the United States 
is founded on natural strength, on popular right, on 
popular affection, and may be amended and even newly 
modelled without danger of a revolution. Such a govern- 
ment will probably possess all possible good with least 
possible evil. 

In short, a monarch, a hereditary nobility, an estab- 
lished church, are supposed here to be the foundation of 
government. In the United States they are considered as 
pompous titles, imposing names, usurpations ; nay, more, 
it is held that legitimate government cannot exist under 
them. Hence it will be found a more diflficult enterprise 
to introduce than to overturn such a system. Most other 
governments originated in slavery ; ours originated in 
freedom. In the former case the weak have to contend 
against the strong, and every unsuccessful effort renders 
the weak still weaker, the strong still stronger ; and unless 
the spirit of freedom should inspire the people, or the 
tyranny should be intolerable even to slaves, there is no 
remedy. In the latter case the conflict is only defensive ; 
guard the sacred fire and freedom must be co-existent 
with the principle. 

Were the United States like ancient Carthage, or like 
England or Holland, we should soon look with regret on 



252 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

what we once were ; but being an agricultural rather than 
a commercial people, we shall be enabled, in spite of com- 
mercial aristocracy, to preserve the Constitution in its 
most wholesome state. The agricultural will hapidly 
swallow up tlie commercial influence ; and even if com- 
merce should ruin both the Atlantic and Pacific shores, 
there will still be ample space between for liberty to range 
in. Poverty, misery, and slavery, when they find a resi- 
dence in the United States, will first seat themselves in 
the capitals of the Atlantic, and may advance a little way 
into the interior, but in vain will they endeavor to tres- 
pass on the freeholders. The wings of our eagle, sitting 
on the great range of mountains, if not large enough to 
cover both the Atlantic and Pacific, will still shield the 
freeborn, brave, and hardy sons of the soil. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXVIL 



London, May 15. 

Imagine to yourself a man of short stature, who has 
just passed the prime of life ; whose broad high forehead 
is inclined to baldness, but whose ruddy, thoughtful, yet 
open countenance shows the temperature both of health 
and philosophy ; of manners remarkably mild, unassum- 
ing, ratlier reserved ; in conversation cautious, argumenta- 
tive, frequently doubting, yet modestly courting reply, more 
from a desire of truth than a love of contending; in his 
family ailectionate, cordial, accommodating ; to his friends 
confidential, ready to make any sacrifice ; to his enemies 
— you would never know from Mr. Godwin that he had 
an enemy. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 253 

Mr. Godwin lives at Somerton, about three miles from 
London. His house is neat, but in all respects unpre- 
tentious ; it is called a cottage. His study is small, and 
looks out upon the country ; his library is not large, yet 
sufficient for a man who depends more on his own re- 
sources than on the labors of others. The portrait of. 
Mary, painted by Northcote, h^ngs over the fireplace. 
This rendered the study one of the most interesting places 
I ever visited. Though I have frequently been in the room, 
I have ventured only to look at the portrait. Mr. Godwin 
is since married to a charming woman who seems devoted 
to domestic happiness. At present he is occupied with his 
" Geoffrey Chaucer," a work of which great expectations 
are entertained. 

A billet received from Mr. Godwin this morning, in- 
formed me that Mr. Holcroft and Dr. Wolcott would dine 
there to-day. 

Mr. Holcroft, though nearly sixty, has suffered nothing 
from years, laborious mental exertion, or persecution. He 
has all the activity and vivacity of youth. Just returned 
from the Continent, whither he had banished himself in 
compliance with the wishes of the English government, he 
has brought back with him not the least resentment. Per- 
secution, instead of imbittering his disposition, has had 
the effect which it has on all good men. A villain will 
always hate mankind in proportion to his knowledge of 
the world ; a good man, on the contrary, will increase in 
philanthropy. 

Literature is not a little honored when one of her vota- 
ries, leaving a mechanical employment at a period of life 
when habits are usually fixed, has employed his pen suc- 
cessfully, and realized a handsome support. Still more 
charming is it to see the votaries of literature giving proofs 
of the strongest friendship. Holcroft and Godwin are firm 



2^4 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

friends. A striking likeness of the former, also by North- 
cote, is in the dininir-rooni. 

In ap])earanoc. Dr. Wolcott is a genuine John Bull, and 
until he opens his mouth you would little suspect his rela- 
tionship to the poet of Thebes. He is a portly man, rather 
wnwicldy, and, I believe, is fond of a sedentary life. He is 
hastening to old age, and*seems disposed to make the most 
of life. There is little similarity of character between 
Wolcott and Godwin. They are both constant in mental 
exertion ; but the one prefers to sit on a silver cloud and be 
wafted through the four quarters of the world, looking 
down on all the varieties of Nature and the follies of man. 
The other, possessed of the nicest moral feelings, loves to 
envelop himself in darkness and abstraction, in order to 
contemplate whatever is just, fit, or useful. The one, laugh- 
ing, dressed in the gaycty of spring, enters society with the 
pruning-hook ; the other, more serious, labors with the 
ploughshare. Holcroft, who, owing to a defective educa- 
tion, never began to think until his mental powers had 
come to maturity, embarrassed by no system follows the 
dictates of his own mind, and if he is sometimes erroneous, 
the error is all his own ; it is never a borrowed error. 
Hence his conversation, embellished by the variety of life 
which he has seen, is rendered rich, brilliant, original, and 
impressive. 

It is singular, but I believe old age is more disposed to 
egotism and more open to (lattery than youth. I can ac- 
count for it only from a fondness for the ])ast and a certain 
kind of jealousy which arc natural to old age. However 
this may be, a man like Wolcott, and a poet too, whose 
society has been courted as much as his works have been 
read, will naturally in the company of friends freiiucntly 
find in himself a subject for conversation ; nor is this in 
the least displeasing. They arc always the greatest egotists 



LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 255 

who are most offended with the egotism of others. Wol- 
cott seemed delighted with the following anecdote respect- 
ing certain of his works. He said that the ministry had it 
in contemplation to prosecute him for a libel ; and when 
the good policy of the prosecution was questioned, the gra- 
cious Lord Thurlow, to whom Wolcott was under great ob- 
ligation, rose and asked his fellows whether they were sure 
a jury would condemn the man ; and on the surmise of a 
mere doubt, Thurlow said : " Then it is not expedient to 
prosecute." 

I was struck with surprise and horror when Mr. Godwin 
informed me that the ministry once had it on the carpet to 
prosecute the " Political Justice." I took occasion on this 
to ask him how long before he was known to the world he 
had devoted himself to literature. He replied : " It was 
ten years before I was known as an author." This ought 
to inspire the persevering with new ardor. 

Wolcott, like most men of genius, has a contempt for 
mere scholars, who, walking on the stilts of pedantry, im- 
agine themselves a head taller than other folk. The talents 
of a certain famous man being questioned, Wolcott re- 
marked that he was not a man of genius, but a man of 
great capacity. He also said that if we would attend to 
him he would distinguish between the learned man, the 
man of capacity, and the man of genius. " Here," said he, 
" we will suppose a number of coins — ducats, pistoles, 
dollars, guineas — on this table. The learned man, after 
thumbing his dictionaries for half an hour, will be able to 
tell you the names of these coins, in all languages. The 
man of capacity will go further, and tell you the value 
of each coin and the amount of the whole together, with 
everything relative to their use, difference of exchange, 
and origin. But who invented these coins ? The man of 
genius." 



25G LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Tliis gave general satisfaction. ITowcvcr, it was replieil, 
and I thought very justly, that unless the man of genius 
should acquire capacity, his genius without capacity would 
be less useful than capacity without genius. For, the ex- 
ertion of genius is rare. God does not every day create a 
world ; and although genius may claim a higher preroga- 
tive than capacity can claim, they are mutually indebted. 
If genius gives employment to capacity, not infrequently 
capacity gives direction and results to genius. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXVIII. 



LoNDOX, May 24. 

I AM conscious how much I hazard in the present letter ; 
but the preceding notices on the English character will 
dispose you to consider this letter a commentary, rather 
than a dictate of my own authority. 

Those various prerogatives which the English claim to 
possess exclusively might induce a stranger to sujipose 
that they would fling themselves back in their easy-chairs 
and cither deride or despise all those who are not self- 
dependent, self-supported, and regardless of the opinions 
of everybody else. Yet I am inclined to believe these 
self-poised characters sacrifice more to their foolish pas- 
sions than any other people. This can be illustrated only 
by instances taken from real life. 

It is oljvious that in proportion as a country is free, its 
peoi)le will display a variety of passions ; while the case 
and safety with which the passions may be indulged will 
lead mauy to preposterous lengths ; and wiiilc the man is 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 257 

ruining himself his obstinacy of perseverance will increase 
to the last; the same spirit which first incited, propels him 
forward. He will esteem it more honorable to flounder in 
desperation than to stop midway in his career. " Maluit 
patrati, quam incepti facirroris reus, esse." ^ His passion 
acts in a circle, finds no end, but still progresses in degrees. 
The poor, in proportion to their means, will be in danger 
of low pleasures, or, what is not less ruinous, they will 
sacrifice themselves to a hopeless emulation. 

I think it necessary to premise this, in order to preserve 
a degree of verisimilitude among so many inconsistent 
traits as are discoverable among the English. 

I have frequently thought that if such a man as Fabricius 
should visit England, he would leave the people with sen- 
timents little to their honor. He would discover that 
poverty was considered not only the greatest evil, but a 
species of crime. He would perceive a disposition to ex- 
change fame, happiness, even principle, for worldly appear- 
ance and the inglorious reputation of riches ; nay more, 
that the poor enjoyed a transient happiness in being 
thought affluent. 

Zimmerman, you know, in speaking of the different 
observations which different peoples make on strangers, 
does the English the superior honor to attribute to them 
this liberal characteristic : " What sort of a man is that ? " 
The praise which this supposes may, for aught I know, be 
comparatively just ; but certain it is, if the English ever 
do respect a poor man, it must be under a singular circum- 
stance ; for they cease to respect themselves only in the 
degree they approach poverty ; and such a horror have 
they of the mere suspicion of indigence that they become 
prodigal in counterfeiting affluence, and insure future 
through fear of present distress. The coward who killed 

1 Tacitus. 
17 



258 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

himself lest he sliould be killed by the enemy was not 
more ridiculous. 

The truth is, and 1 have noticed it before, the Entilish 
attribute to themselves a wonderful degree of consequence : 
they will naturally do this in comparing themselves with 
the slaves of Europe. Unfortunately they appreciate the 
fact that unless they possess the talents of a Burke or a 
Sheridan, personal worth commands no respect without a 
certain style of appearance ; and with all classes, except 
that which is abandoned to hopeless wretchedness, this 
necessary appearance is rated far above ability. Hence it 
may easily be credited that the English are generally ex- 
travagant, frequently desperate, and always unhappy ; for 
no people descend to misfortune with less dignity than 
the English. The fearful calm which precedes despair 
or the headlong impetuosity of Niagara, seizes the un- 
happy Englishman. His native frankness forbids him to 
suppress his feelings ; from far you hear the brewing 
storm. 

If the English possessed the real spirit of independence 
they might still retain all their pride, but they would mani- 
fest it in a very different manner. Indeed, they sometimes 
assert their independent spirit in devoting themselves to 
mad pursuits, but, whether governed by whim or madness, 
they would feel themselves disgraced if they indulged their 
caprice or madness at less expense than they could their 
sober senses. He who is fantastic is easily tolerated : but 
if he is singular merely to save expense, he instantly be- 
comes contemptible. 

This unhallowed attachment to wealth does not spring 
from the miser-jiassion of possessing property, but rather 
from a consciousness that its dissipation affords the surest 
means of gratification. The English are not remarkable 
for being " alieni apjictontes," but only for being " profusi 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 259 

suorum ; " yet the " profusi suorum " are nearly related to 
the " alieni appetentes." 

If you descend to real life you will find this same spirit 
operating through all the ranks of society. In presence 
of this influence, moral fitness, natural justice, and social 
feeling are all annihilated. From the august tribunal of 
the Lord Chief-Justice down to a petty Court of Requests, 
from the Secretary of State to his humblest retainer, or 
from the magnificent merchant down to a haberdasher of 
small wares, — all, all are in counteraction to the proud 
principles of their Constitution. 

No people are more ready at the theatre to applaud the 
fine sentiment, " Who steals my purse, steals trash." This 
sentiment still passes in a court of honor, and it passes in 
the theatre. When retired from real life, the people for- 
get themselves ; but I have never heard the lines quoted at 
Guildhall, nor at Westminster. The filching of a good 
name and the stealing of a purse would conduct to very 
different tribunals ; and the damaging of another to the 
amount of a sixpence in purse and a sixpence in reputation 
would terminate in very different consequences. The sen- 
timent of Shylock is more just : " If you spare my life, 
spare my property, for that is life." 

In general, the spirit of a nation is shown in the spirit 
of its laws ; but England is an exception. The English 
•laws ignore all distinction in the several gradations of 
crime. This would puzzle a foreigner ignorant of the 
English character. 'He would either pronounce the Eng- 
lish to be more attached to property than to life or repu- 
tation, or conclude that they are a nation of thieves. At 
the Old Bailey I saw a wretch capitally convicted for steal- 
ing a ragged pocket-handkerchief, while the humane judge, 
feeling the hardship of the case, asked the prosecutor this 
question : " Were you in the least degree sensible of miss- 



200 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

ing it at the time, or immediately after tlie time; for if 
you felt it go from your pocket, the felony was not capital." 
Sometimes the jury, to save a man from the gallows, will 
generously perjure themselves. At the Old IJailey, they 
are in the frequent habit of reckoning two for one, except 
when specie is stolen ; then they are obliged to value two 
pounds at forty shillings ; though I have heard the judge 
condole with the jury because there was no system of arith- 
metic which would warrant their computing three guineas 
at one pound nineteen shillings. 

I am not sure if it ])c candid to attribute the unequal 
laws of the English to their intemperate regard for \)vo\> 
erty ; though I have labored in vain to find a less dishonor- 
able reason. Commercial people, we all know, will, as much 
as they can, render law offensive to others and defensive to 
themselves. The same spirit seems to run through the 
whole system of English law, whether relative to commerce 
or to the landed interest. If you ask the mercliant, " What 
do you consider the greatest crime ? " he might possibly say 
murder, but he would mean forgery ; on the other hand, 
should you ask the country squire the same question, he 
too might possibly say murder, but he would mean the 
murder of one of his hares. 

In this country, few crimes arc thought to be highly 
criminal so long as property is secure. One wouUl sup- 
pose that the forcible amjiutation of a man's ears or nose 
was a greater crime Ihan the stealing of one of his sheep; 
but the fact is, a man's ears and nose are not essential 
members, nor su])jects of trade ; whereas, if a man's ears 
or nose were soused, like a hog's feet and ears, the law in 
this respect would change from a civil process to a felony. 
If you steal the only child of a fond parent, the law is 
silent ; but if you steal tlie child's clothes you commit a 
felony. I was present at a trial of this sort, on wliich the 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 261 

prisoner was acquitted, it not appearing sufficiently evident 
that he stole the child with a view to steal the clothes. 

The same spirit influences the administration of public 
affairs. The subject is invidious, yet sufficiently noto- 
rious. Public offices are not sold at vendue, but it is well 
known they may be purchased. You frequently see in the 
most celebrated newspapers advertisements offering cer- 
tain sums " to any lady or gentleman who can command 
sufficient parliamentary interest to procure the writer a 
public office with a specified salary " — the utmost secrecy 
being promised ! I confess I had so much simplicity, 
when I first saw such an advertisement, that I thought it 
an excellent joke. I am now fully persuaded that public 
offices may be purchased, if you know where to apply. 
Mr. Addington is the last man to whom I would recom- 
mend a suitor. He would certainly suffer disappointment. 

The following singular circumstance passed under my 
own observation. An honest fellow in the west of Eng- 
land, with more money than correct knowledge of the 
world, had doubtless heard that public offices as well as 
loans and state lotteries were sold in London. A valuable 
sinecure in his neighborhood becoming vacant, he wished 
to purchase it for his son. In full expectation of getting 
the office, he applied to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
promising him two thousand pounds. The simple man 
had no idea of bribing the Minister of State, and was not 
a little frightened when told his proceeding was not ex- 
actly regular. Mr. Addington prosecuted the man for an 
attempt at bribery, and he was convicted ; but the judges, 
much to their honor, feeling the merit of the case, imposed 
the small fine of one hundred pounds. They were obliged 
to convict the man, otherwise Mr. Addington must have 
paid the costs. 

In this instance the Chancellor of the Exchequer did not 



262 LETTERS FKOM LONDON. 

show liimself the great man. Had there never been an 
office sold in Enuland, public virtue might have exacted 
this from Mr. Addiugton ; but England is not early Rome, 
though Mr. Addington may be Cato the Censor. It would 
have been more magnanimous m the Chancellor to have 
written back a gentle reprimand, attributing the man's 
offers to ignorance. This prosecution was as ill-timed as 
a similar one would have been at that period of Rome 
when Jugurtha, with a certain famous exclamation, de- 
l)arted from the city. 

In common life so much is attributed to the reputation 
of riches that you meet with few men who would not be 
happy to pass themselves off as worth ten thousand pounds. 
This shows itself in the style of appearance and manners 
of the people. Understand me ; I do not impute this so 
liiuch to a passion for property as to a fondness for appear- 
ance. To this ambition the old men are an exception ; 
they are the same in all countries. No wonder if he who 
has outlived the world and all his friends believes nothing 
in this life is so substantial as money and so durable as 
real estate. No wonder that when he can lean no longer 
on this world, and when society conspires to cast him off, 
he considers his bag of gold his softest pillow. 

The first lodgings for which I in(]uired in London were 
shown me by a decent-looking man. I had scarcely entered 
the apartments when he told me he was independent and 
not in the habit of letting lodgings, but that a part of his 
family was in the country. 

1 was chatting lately with a lady newly married, who 
excused herself for a few minutes. On her return I ob- 
served that she was more richly dressed. I bantered her; 
she said she expected one of lier husband's relatives. 
" "Well, and were you not dressed with perfect decency ? " 
'' The gentleman whom I expect," rcjilied the lady, " would 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 263 

never have called on me again, had he seen me in that 
dress." 

" You must not judge by appearances " is the most 
frequent precaution one hears in London ; and perhaps 
one half of the credit given in this city is due to the 
strength of • appearance. In passing the streets thousands 
will value you with a coup d'ceil. It is surprising how 
rapidly the eyes of those one meets will scrutinize your 
personal appearance, and invariably fix on that part of 
your dress which does you the least honor ! A man with 
a hole in his stocking will meet with an insult at every 
step, unless the eyes of the passengers are arrested by his 
waistcoat or his breeches. Hence some gain a false 
credit, while others receive a transient injury, from every 
one they meet. So usual is it to annex a certain style 
of appearance to certain characters, that, where the per- 
sons are not known they are in danger of being taken 
for impostors. A certain innkeeper between Oxford and 
London had never seen Counsellor Garrow, but had 
formed an idea of his personal appearance. Unfortunately 
for Garrow, this innkeeper had decorated him with the 
trappings of a Lord Mayor, and imagined a person very 
different from plain Mr. Garrow. Mr. Garrow's carriage 
breaking down in the neighboHiood of the innkeeper, the 
owner endeavored to bargain for another to proceed to 
London ; but the innkeeper hesitating to trust his own 
carriage for the broken one, GaiTow unwittingly told his 
name. " Counsellor Garrow," replied the innkeeper, 
" might command anything in my house ; but I believe 
you to be an arrant impostor, and will not trust you a 
farthing." Whether this be true I know not, but I heard 
Garrow tell it to embellish some case he was supporting. 

This letter has become tedious : expect the remainder 
in- my next ; for the present Adieu. 



264 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 



LETTER XXIX. 

London, June 4. 

Glory docs not so sensibly affect the English as one might 
imagine. If talents or valor be requited with money, they 
seem little solicitous lo survive their bodies. They eat 
parsley with their victuals. The sight of this jjlant.'so 
sacred to the ancients, affects them as little as do turnips 
or cabbages. 

There is now a ballad-singer under mv window chanting 
the praises of Nelson. The most characteristic couplet is 
the following : — 

''Like a true British tar he sported while ashore, 
Has spent all his mouey aud gone to sea for more." 

Successful valor is scarcely to be censured, if the pres- 
ent time command most of its attention ; trappings of honor, 
splendor of appearance, joyful ovations arc the principal 
rewards of valor. Bravery is a common virtue ; mankind 
are naturally brave, and only become cowards when they 
become effeminate. The successful exertion of mind co- 
extends with time, operates through every grade of society, 
and is felt through all ages. The man whose fame is to 
be endless ought to feel himself the first among mortals, 
whether, like Cleanthes, he works in a mill, or, like Anax- 
archns, he is pounded in a mortar. 

The glory of valor and of literature became a j)assion 
with the Greeks and Romans, melting them sometimes to 
tears, and sometimes depriving them of slccj). I know 
nothing of the English, if the feelings of the jiresent age 
are similar to those which influenced the great men -of 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 265 

Greece and Rome. They seemed to be endued with a pure, 
ethereal spirit, expansive as the light of heaven, and dis- 
interested as the goddess of harvest. Even those who 
knew not how to imitate them either paid in admiration or 
detracted in envy. These feelings were, indeed, sometimes 
carried to excess by the Stoics, but had their origin in 
magnanimity. If a man can believe that poverty is not an 
evil, and that pleasure may be extracted from pain itself, 
he is doubtless a god among men, and may trample tempta- 
tion under his feet. 

Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum 
Subjecifc pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari ! ^ 

Can you believe it, my dear fellow, that there are char- 
acters here to whom Greeks and Romans would have erected 
altars, — men who would feel themselves honored in being 
admitted among noblemen whose chief distinction might 
perhaps be traced to the herald's office ? What a perver- 
sion of Nature that mere matter should thus gain ascend- 
ency over mind ! Nobler sentiments would have taught 
them that the immortal exertion of mind ought to inspire 
a slave, like Epictetus, with more magnanimity than the 
worthless court of a worthless monarch ^ could boast. How 
can you believe that there are those in England ready to 
sell their names to works not their own ! 

Most of the English, I suspect, would, like Congreve, 
rather be esteemed " independent gentlemen " than authors 
or philosophers, and would sell their tombs in Westminster 
Abbey for a pair of buckskin breeches.'^ I might illustrate 
this with numerous instances, but they are too well known 
to you, and are disgraceful to the republic of letters. 

1 Virgil, Georg. bk. ii. 

2 Nero, under whom Epictetus flourished. 

2 These are in the fashion both in summer and winter. 



2G6 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

The cause of this debasement of human dignity might 
easily 1)C found ; rei)ublics and monarchies will ever exhibit 
the hunuin mind under different aspects. Under the for- 
mer an Aristippus will be an exception ; under the latter a 
Wollstonecraft and a Jean Jacques Rousseau will be excep- 
tions. It might be worth the labor to pursue this inquiry 
from the time of the philosophers who ilourished while the 
republics of Greece were in full vigor, to the period of the 
Sophists, when liberty began to decline, thence down to 
the pandering authors who sprung uj) under the thousand 
petty monarchies. It would a{)pear that the government 
of Greece through all its various stages, from liberty to 
slavery, produced the like. Philosophers flourished with 
liberty, sophists on its decline, and an abandoned set of 
parasites on its catastrophe. Dignity, servility, truth, 
falsehood, knowledge, ignorance, virtue, vice, — all flow 
from the spirit of the government as naturally as the 
stream flows from the fountain. Who could not discern 
that Cicero wrote during the existence of the Roman re- 
public, and that Horace wrote under a monarchy I Who 
could not discern that Lord Bacon ^ at one period of his 
life held the pen of a slave, wdiile Sydney, Harrington, 
and Milton wrote during a resi)ite ! 

In short, this passion for appearance, pardonable in the 
glowworms of society, which shine only in the absence of 
light, has not only infected both city and village, but has 
pervaded the republic of letters, has tricked out jjhilosophy 
in the garl) of the coxcomb, and sent her to dance attend- 
ance on the great. 

1 Lord Bacon, in speaking of James the First, in his Essay on the 
r"haracter of Queen Elizabetli, says : " There remain two posthumous felici- 
ties, which seem to attend the more noldc and august passages of her life; 
the one is that of her successor, the other tiiat of hor memory. For she 
has got sucli a successor, who tliough by liis masculine virtue and offspring, 
and late accession to the throne, he may excel and eclipse her glory ; 
yet, etc." 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 267 

The remark must be qualified with many exceptions, 
but I believe it will generally be found true that if this 
people could have their choice of property or happiness, 
they would prefer property and trust their happiness to 
the fashion. Adieu. 



LETTER XXX. 

London, June 16. 

I DINED yesterday with Mr. L. 

" And so," said he, " I have heard you say you esteem 
the English more since you have seen them, but esteem 
England less." Mr. L. then threw the gauntlet by ob- 
serving : " The English form of government exhibits this 
remarkable peculiarity, that while all other forms of gov- 
ernment have deteriorated and become victims of their 
own corruption, it is the fortune of the English Consti- 
tution, — notwithstanding so many revolutions, which fre- 
quently ruin what they are designed to mend, and the 
constant collision of party, which as frequently either re- 
laxes to imbecility or strains beyond the vigor of law, — 
to stand at this day the wonder of the world." 

In reply to this it was asked : " How does the govern- 
ment operate on general happiness ? A government may 
be excellent in theory, and yet its administration be a 
mockery of its principles : that is, the government may 
be nothing more than a form." 

Mr. L. observed : " The theory of every government is 
doubtless more pure than its administration ; the sublimcst 
principles become sullied in their descent to common life ; 
but the English Constitution has provided a remedy for 



268 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

every wrong, and brought that remedy home to every 
Englisliman's door." 

" What, sir, is your definition of the best form of 
government ? " 

" That," replied Mr. L., " which operates most exten- 
sively on general happiness." 

" What, then, sir, may be the proportion between the 
rich and the poor in England?" 

" Whom do you term poor ? " 

" All those whose daily industry produces only their 
daily bread, and leaves them at the end as destitute as they 
were at the beginning of the year ; not only those who have 
not bread to eat, but all those whose daily labor enriches 
others, while it affords only a scanty subsistence to them- 
selves." 

Madam L. observed, " Such were not considered poor 
in England, and you are in a fair way to conclude that 
we arc a nation of beggars." 

Mr. L. replied, " Perhaps, four fifths of the peoi)le would 
come under this description of poor." 1 then asked, " What 
was the proportion in the reign of Henry the Eighth when 
the pleasure of the king was the law of the land, — greater 
or less ? " 

" There was, doubtless, then," said Mr. L., " a more equal 
state of things, for society was not so complicated as at 
present ; the largest possessions did not exert so dangerous 
and oppressive an influence ; the desire of acquisition had 
not thrust out of doors the liberal, chivalrous spirit of 
hospitality." 

" Nor," added I, " had commerce and manufactures en- 
riched a few at the expense of the many." 

" But what is your view," said Mr. L., " comjiaring the 
present state of society with the past? " 

" Wliy, the English would be willing to excliange the 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 269 

reign of his present Majesty for that of Henry the 
Eighth." 

" Nay, sir, the spirit of the modern English would not 
tolerate a tyrant like Henry on the throne ; and if there be 
at present less general happiness in England than there 
was in the days of Henry the Eighth, it is not to be attrib- 
uted to the pernicious influence of the Constitution of 1692, 
but to the national debt." 

" Very plausible," I replied ; " but suppose the English 
free from debt. If your king happen to be a weak monarch, 
he falls into the hands of a minister, — the consequence of 
this let Walpole, Bute, and North answer ; if he happen to 
be an Edward First, an Edward Third, or Henry the Fifth, 
and capable of governing per se without a minister, your 
Constitution is pro tempore annulled, for he must be a 
very weak prince who is not stronger than that Constitu- 
tion which thwarts his wishes. A James the Second, I 
readily admit, ought not to attempt an usurpation on the 
Constitution ; but a bold prince, nay, a woman, like ' good 
queen Bess,' might use the Constitution as she did the Earl 
of Essex, — flatter it when pleased, and discard it when 
jealous. Indeed, I hazard a doubt if your boasted Consti- 
tution has ever had a trial of its strength." 

" But," said Mr. L., " you seem to be ignorant, sir, that 
the English have a House of Commons, — the protector of 
the Constitutional rights of the subject, the watchful guar- 
dian of the interests of the people, without whose consent 
not a farthing can be levied ; this is the glorious bulwark 
of an Englishman's liberty. This inestimable popular 
branch of the government was peculiar to England until 
the wisdom of your own legislators adopted it under the 
name of a House of Representatives." 

" Your House of Commons, I concede, has been a very 
economical guardian of the interests of the people ; since 



270 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

the commencement of the last century, it has involved them 
in a debt of only five hundred and fifty millions. Your 
House of Commons is the most convenient thing imagin- 
able for a Chancellor of the Exchecjuer ; it affords him 
color for those measures which might have cost former 
ministers their heads. Hence, one of them in imitation of 
the Roman said : ' Money and votes are equally necessary, 
for with money I can purchase votes, and with votes raise 
money.' " 

Mr. L. replied : " This national debt, which so much 
alarms you, is not only an imaginary evil, but a positive 
good : it consolidates the strength of the nation. The 
riches of the country have increased with its debt, and at 
this moment she is as competent to pay the interest as she 
was in the days of George the First or George the Second." 

I observed : " If the landholders and the merchants 
should divide between them the burden of the national 
debt there might not be so much cause for complaint ; 
but the whole burden falls on the poor." 

" How do you make that appear ? " said Mr. L. 

" It is sufficiently evident ; for there can be no possible 
proportion between that tax which levies one hundred 
pounds on him who will never feel the remotest inconven- 
ience from the imposition, and that which levies only six- 
pence on him who will suffer the deprivation of a single 
dinner, or work two extra hours, in consequence of the 
tax ; and this is equally true whether the tax be direct or 
indirect. Therefore, your national debt does impoverish 
the country, and chain the poor to hopeless poverty. It is 
a tyrant whom no law can bind, no weapon reach, no sub- 
mission soften, no condition escape ; a new species of mon- 
ster, which would collect within itself the whole world, and 
then sink beneath its own weight." 

" But," said Mr. L., " what nation under heaven ever dis- 



LETTEES FEOM LONDON. 271 

criminated in this manner between the rich and the poor ? 
It is utterly impossible, if the taxes be indirect. Do 
they, in your country, discriminate between the rich and 
the poor ? " 

Thus Mr. L. turned my eyes on our own country. Cer- 
tainly, ray dear fellow, it is one of the first principles, and 
it ought to be the operation of our Constitution, to check 
the tendency of inequality, to burden those least whose 
doors open with a wooden latch, to facilitate the endeavors 
of industry, and to discountenance the redundancy of 
wealth. Adieu. 



LETTER XXXI. 



LoNDOx, June 27. 

There is no description of people in England holden in 
less respect than the Quakers ; yet I have seen no sect in 
this country with whom I have been more pleased. The 
cause of this dislike lies very deep. In a corrupted state 
of society, those who approach nearest to first principles 
will forever be objects of dislike, if not of abhorrence, with 
the rest of the community ; for the latter will naturally 
hate those who differ from them in so many important 
points, and who not only differ from them, but interfere 
with their immediate interests. 

With respect to the rest of the world, the Quakers cer- 
tainly are a hopeless and barren set of people. They hate 
in equal degree both kings and priests. Their consciences 
revolt at tithes in any shape ; therefore the clergy hate 
them. Their own meditations serve them instead of 
preaching ; therefore the religious of most other denomi- 
nations dislike them. Their temperance laughs at the 



272 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

physician, and their honesty starves the lawyer, while their 
prudence and foresight exalt them above the active, in- 
jurious hatred of the world, and elevate them above those 
who despise them. Their decency of carriage, their un- 
assuming manners, their habitual economy, and their 
general spirit of equity, have long, and will perhaps for- 
ever connect them in a body as lasting as their present 
maxims. 

There is one characteristic which distinguishes the 
Quakers from all other sects. They exhibit nothing of 
the spirit of proselytism ; their favorite sentiments par- 
take not of enthusiasm ; they hurl no damnation on the 
rest of the world. Tolerant of everybody, they consider 
all honest men their brethren. There is not a single trait 
in their character which is incentive to ill-will, nor a move- 
ment in their conduct which has ever courted persecution. 
Their humility has never resisted even opjiression ; patient 
in suffering, they are active only in support of their prin- 
ciples. Remote from all hypocrisy, they have never 
sought after temporal power, nor has their own system 
ever operated to the prejudice of others. Yet this sect 
has been persecuted and its members put to death ! This 
is the blackest stigma on human nature with which the 
annals of politics or religion have been stained. 

Though tlic Quakers live under a monarchy they have 
contrived, without the aid of temporal favors, to erect 
themselves into a government of their own, approaching 
as near to a rcpul)lic as is consistent with any sort of allegi- 
ance to the national government. This is a masterpiece of 
policy, which has gained them a firm standing in the midst 
of their enemies, and which ought to teach the rest ofman- 
kind that it is practicable for a virtuous, persevering few 
to counteract the many. The Quakers have contrived to 
render themselves happy in the midst of misery, and free, 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 273 

in a great measure, in the midst of slavery. Hence, they 
have all that natural, unaffected dignity, and all that 
manly, cordial spirit of accommodation which man shows 
to man before he becomes degenerate ; and hence, they re- 
gard mankind pretty much as that Cherokee did, who, being 
introduced at Paris and shown everything which was sup- 
posed capable of delighting or surprising him, was asked, 
after his eyes had devoured the objects of a whole week's 
exhibition, what astonished him most. He answered, 
" The difference between man and man ; " and then being 
asked with what he was most delighted, he replied, " I was 
most delighted to see a passenger help to carry a heavy 
burden which he saw upon the back of another." 

Although the Quakers approach nearer to the religion of 
Nature, notwithstanding their correspondence with the 
world, than any systematic sect which has ever appeared, 
they still hold to the great principles of the Christian religion, 
though in point of " orthodoxy " they can hardly be termed 
Christians. Most other religious persons, whether east- 
ern sages or western saints, have retired from the world in 
the degree they have approached Brahma or Jesus, while the 
Quakers, contented with this world until they can find a 
better, have found the secret of living in the midst of so- 
ciety, and of mingling as much of this world as is consistent 
with heaven, and as much of heaven as is consistent with 
making the most of this world. 

I have been led to these observations from a circum- 
stance which occurred yesterday. I found on my table 
the following printed notice : " Some of the people called 
Quakers, intend to hold a meeting this evening, at their 
place of worship, in Martin's Court, St. Martin's Lane, to 
which the neighbours are invited." In expectation of 
something extraordinary, I attended. At the door I was 
received by one of the Friends, who introduced me to a seat 

18 



274 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

among the cklcrs. The house was soon filled, and a pro- 
found silence reigned for a few minutes, when one of the 
bretlircn rose and began to speak, but he had not spoken 
a minute, when an elder said, " We would take it kind of 
thee, friend, to sit down." The speaker looked up to 
see whence the disapprobation proceeded, then bowing in 
acquiescence, sat down. Presently a fine-looking elderly 
lady of matronly appearance, dressed in the most elegant 
simplicity, rose, and after a warm and impressive prayer, 
delivered extempore an animated and edifying discourse 
with a flow of elocution and grace of manner, which, had 
she been forty years younger, might have inflamed those 
passions she sought to allay. 

There is one defect in the polity of the Quakers, which 
will forever subject them to the tyranny of the times, — 
they love peace so well that they will not even fight for 
their liberty. This known principle divests them of all 
political consequence when those great political movements 
are agitated which sometimes involve the deepest conse- 
quences to society. Otherwise, the Quakers would gradu- 
ally effect a revolution throughout the world. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXII. 

London, .Tuly 0. 
It is the custom of some of the London l)ooksellers to 
give weekly dinners to their literary and other friends. 
Hence you sometimes find at the same table, characters 
who would never have met except under the auspices of 
roast beef and Madeira wine. It was these whicli brouglit 
together "Jack Wilkes and the venerable Samuel Johnson." 



LETTERS FROxM LONDON. 275 

A bookseller's dinner is doubly a treat to his guests. It 
offers an indirect but agreeable compliment, by telling 
them their own fame has enabled him to treat them so 
sumptuously. 

The republic of letters is never more respectable than on 
those occasions of good humor and liberal mirth, when all 
the arts and sciences find themselves encircled round the 
festive board. The man who is in the habit of associating 
with his enemy will frequently finish by esteeming him. 
Mr. Malthus, who, in opposition to the " Political Justice," 
has written an essay on the " Principle of Population," a 
work of some fame, was lately seated at a bookseller's 
dinner next to Mr. Godwin. 

Yesterday, I found myself at Mr. Johnson's, the booksel- 
ler, in St. Paul's Churchyard, where, among those to 
whom I was introduced, was Fuseli the painter, and a 
Scotch gentleman who is publishing in Scotland a new 
edition of Ossian in the " original language." 

The English don't say much at the table till the first 
course is finished ; but their manner of eating soon throws 
them into a gentle fever which invites to sociability when 
they have sufficient confidence in the company. Mr. 
Bonnycastle contributed not a little to the entertainment ; 
though remarkably merry, I suspect he is a matliematician, 
for he remarked that "the ball on the top of St. Paul's 
would appear ten times larger if placed on the ground at 
the same distance." The difference in the medium of 
vision was concluded to be the cause of this ; but one of 
the company, who thought it much easier to be certain of a 
thing than to ascertain its truth, proposed to Mr. Bonny- 
castle to go and measure the circumference of the ball and 
then make the experiment. 

Fuseli was the life of the entertainment. Ready on all 
occasions, his happy combination of language joined to his 



276 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

emphatic manner, bordering hard on dogmatism, together 
with his dec]) insight into human nature, renders him an 
oracle wherever lie goes. This is the same Fuseli to whom 
Lavater dedicated his " Aphorisms." His first publication 
was a romantic essay on the principal works of Rousseau, 
written, as Mr. Johnson, the publisher, informs me, forty 
years since ; and from that time to the present he has 
published nothing except his professional lectures.^ Fuseli 
was brought up in the family of Lavater, and caught 
from the latter not a little of the enthusiasm of his char- 
acter. He spoke of Lavater with reverence and affection, 
and seemed gratified with my marks of respect for the 
memory of that original sage. One of the company related 
the following anecdote of Lavater : " A Swiss lady waited 
on him to request his opinion of her. Lavater observed 
her a considerable time, and promised he would send her a 
written character. The contents of his letter were, ' Very 
pretty, very silly.'" I remarked that "pretty" had no 
relation to character, and if it had, Lavatcr's style of con- 
duct was very remote from such trifling. Fuseli nodded 
assent, and said that the author of the anecdote knew 
nothing of Lavater's character. 

There must have been a conflict in the mind of Fuseli, 
between the painter and the author, but the painter got the 
ascendency, and claims a large portion of the sublimity of 
his character. However, I am inclined to believe he some- 
times regrets that he has preferred the temporary and lim- 
ited fame of the brush to the more durable and extensive 
expression of the pen ; for his conversation shows all the 
correctness of the scholar with the enthusiasm of original 
sentiment. His profession has naturally UmI him to history, 
which he seems to have explored with the jealous eye of 
incredulity. 

* Fuseli ia Professor of Painting in the Royal Academy. 



LETTEKS FROM LONDON. 277 

The character of Julian was accidentally remarked upon 
by one of the company. Julian, whom his enemies have 
attempted to depreciate with the name of Apostate, has 
always been a favorite of mine, on account of his justice, 
valor, constancy in adversity, and moderation in command. 
But Fuseli, I perceived, regarded Julian with more than 
dislike, — with abhorrence ; and when I volunteered in 
his defence, and appealed to the " Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire," he put me down by saying that '' Ammi- 
anus Marcellinus, the historical authority of Gibbon, had 
drawn a very different character of Julian from that exhib- 
ited in the 'Decline and Fall.' The worst traits in his 
character are concealed, and the best embellished by Gib- 
bon, who, fond of Julian, was afraid of spoiling his hero by 
giving him his just character." However, Gibbon is not 
the only historian who has taken delight in celebrating 
the virtues, the wisdom, and the valor of Julian ; and I 
am yet to be persuaded that Julian the Apostate was not 
a fine fellow, and worth all the holy Fathers who 
have worn a tiara. 

The features of Fuseli are as strongly marked as if they 
had been cut in marble ; but his character, which I suspect 
is naturally violent, seems tempered with philosophy and 
adorned with an exquisite taste. Eccentric from his cra- 
dle, age has taken nothing from the impetuosity of his con- 
ceptions, which by turns dazzle, elevate, and astonish. It 
is now a profound remark, then general satire, and pres- 
ently a romantic excursion. In all the relations of life, 
in short, Fuseli is a respectable man. 

The Scotch gentleman, who is publishing Ossian in the 
" original language," had come to London to mortgage a 
large quantity of Scotch land. One of the company at 
dinner whispered, " He ought to have gone to Norway 
or Lapland ; there Scotch lands might be praised." 



278 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

The new edition of Ossian gave rise to several obser- 
vations. 1 endeavored to obtain Fuseli's opinion of the 
authority of those poems, but was prevented by the rapid- 
ity of his conversation, lie seemed to treat the poems 
witii no great respect, and at length let off a shot at the 
whole clan of Scotch poets, by roundly asserting that all 
the Scotch rhymers put together would not amount to half 
a poet. Fuseli, I discovered, would allow no man to be a 
poet wlio is not in tlic hal^it of attaining to the sublime. 
He himself deals altogether in the sublime of painting. 
He has even attempted the sublime in the three witches in 
Macbeth. But if the object of the various kinds of poetry 
be to please, to enrapture, to soothe, to elevate, he is a true 
poet who can attain his object in either way. The Greeks 
were not so nice : Anacreon. Theocritus, and Pindar were 
acknowledged by all Greece. Then why should Allan 
Ramsay, Thompson, and Burns be questioned ? For my 
part, I should be loath to see the more humble Beattie 
whipped from Parnassus. 

It seemed to be the opinion of the Scotch gentleman 
that if the "original language" was printed with the trans- 
lation of Ossian, every doubt respecting the authority of the 
poems would be silenced. I suggested the possibility that 
the " original language " might have been translated from 
Macpherson's Ossian, and if so, the fact would probably 
raise another storm of criticism. 

Adieu. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 279 



LETTER XXXIII. 

London, July 20. 

An excursion at this season of the year to Oxford, on 
foot, with an intelligent companion, will afford all that 
the charms of Nature can give, in addition to what one 
may collect as a tourist. 

Having procured a letter of introduction to Mr. Portall, 
a fellow of St. John's, Oxford, we proceeded by the way of 
Windsor, the summer residence of their Majesties. Nine 
miles from the city, on the road to Windsor, is Turnhara 
Green ; here dwells the venerable Dr. Griffiths,^ the pro- 
jector of the " Monthly Review." Having formerly been 
introduced, and received by him with the affectionate com- 
pliment that he had " a reverence for the citizens of the 
United States," we called on this literary patriarch, and 
ran over fifty years in about an hour and a half. Sociable, 
as most old men are when you have their confidence, and 
highly interesting, by having at command the cream of all 
the literature and the connecting anecdotes of the last 
half century. Dr. Griffiths requires only your attention to 
carry you into the " greenroom " of the republic of letters. 
Fortunately for most celebrated authors, their books live, 
and their memories perish ; otherwise the glory of their 
names would rarely save their characters from contempt. 

I asked him if David Hume did not formerly reside in 
that vicinity, and if he was acquainted with that writer. 
Dr. Griffiths pointed from the window to the house in 
which Hume resided while at Turnham Green. He added : 
" Both Hume and Rousseau have spent many an hour in 
1 Lately deceased. 



280 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

this room." I was transported by the fact that I was 
conversing with a man who had been intimate with Rous- 
seau, and I was anxious to collect every particular respect- 
ing that wonderful character. 

Dr. Griffiths thought Rousseau knew the human heart 
much better in the closet than he did in the world, which, 
notwithstanding the goodness of his heart, led him to ex- 
hibit — " 

" Then," I added, interrupting him, " he had an excel- 
lent heart ? " 

" — which, not withstanding the goodness of his heart," 
repeated the doctor, " frequently led him to exhibit a jeal- 
ousy, which rendered it extremely difficult for people to 
accommodate themselves to him." 

" But, sir, this jealousy was nothing more than the 
excess of sensibility ; it did not originate in envy ? " 

" No ; who was there for Rousseau to envy ? Rousseau 
envied no man." 

" But," 1 added, " Voltaire, I suspect, envied Rousseau." 

" No wonder," said the doctor ; " the world gave A'ol- 
taire a rival, and Voltaire had not sufficient magnanimity 
to admire a man who like Minerva sprung full-grown 
from the head of Jupiter, and who seemed to usurp part 
of that temple in which A'oltairc alone had been so long 
worshii)ped." 

I asked the doctor, " How did Rousseau spend his time 
when he visited you ? " 

" As little like a philosopher," he replied, " as you can 
imagine. He had a small sagacious dog called Cupid, 
that always followed him. Whenever Rousseau was urged 
to converse on subjects either disagreeable or fatiguing to 
him, he would begin to sing ; at the same moment Cupid 
would begin to dnncc, — and thus Rousseau would fre- 
(piently spend two hours, excepting those short intervals 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 281 

when Cupid would make a blunder, and then his master 
would fall a-laughing. In this manner would the philos- 
opher of Ermenonville spend many an hour in that window- 
seat, while he resided in this town with Hume." 

We left this civil old gentleman, who made us promise 
to come and eat a bit of mutton with him, and proceeded 
to Windsor. The castle is on a high hill of gentle ascent, 
and from the Round Tower commands a fine prospect of 
not less than twelve counties. But nothing gave me 
more pleasure than the view of Runnymead, so memorable 
for the extortion of Magna Charta from King John, — if a 
natural right can ever be said to be extorted. It is a pity 
that every royal castle has not a Runnymead in sight. I 
observed that the keeper, who pointed out the places of 
most note, passed his eye over this famous campaign. 
Within a short distance and seemingly within reach, stands 
Eton College, noted for good classical scholars. The hills, 
covered with wheat, which was quite ripe and promised 
a golden harvest, the stately oaks, and trees of less growth 
variegated the face of Nature ; while the brute creation 
grazing at large in the neighboring plains, the calmness of 
the scene around, the approaching decline of day, together 
with the curling smoke from the fire-hearths of many vil- 
lages, inspired a serenity of mind which was fast approach- 
ing to a religious revery, when a beggar ^ who had followed 
us up to the Round Tower broke the charm. 

The castle is ornamented with many fine paintings, 
among which the cartoons of Raphael were shown to us. 
Of course I admired them, not that I know an original from 
a copy ; I only aspire to judge of the design and execution, 
of the moral or humor of the piece, or whether it be true to 
Nature ; and every one can do this. The cartoons are so 
called by way of eminence, to distinguish six of Raphael's 

1 The royal waiter who admitted us to the castle. 



282 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

large paintings, the subjects of which arc taken from inter- 
esting ])assagcs of the New Testament, whence most of the 
subjects of the Italian masters ai'c taken. 

You, in the United States, know nothing of the rap- 
tures which fine paintings are capable of raising in the 
arms, face, and shoulders of real amateurs. A man is 
scarcely a critic unless he can expire in convulsions or 
become petrified with astonishment at the sight of a fine 
new painting. At the late annual exliibition at the 
Royal Academy, I observed a gentleman examining very 
attentively one of Turner's recent paintings. For my 
part, I had visited all the rooms and was about to retire 
when I saw the same man fixed in the same place and con- 
templating the same portrait. I ventured to inquire of him 
what he saw in that portrait, which commanded so much of 
his attention. " See ! " exclaimed he, " I see something 
that looks a little like painting ! I wish I was chained to 
that portrait!" I told him that Lord Thurlow^ would have 
no objection to that, as he was fond of chains and slavery. 

I lately visited a small collection of pictures, wliich cost 
the proprietor X 20,000. He had formerly made the tour 
of Europe in search of paintings, and was then gone to 
Italy to purcliase more. Two of the pictures, called by 
way of eminence the Murillos, which cost him £4,000 
sterling, would scarcely sell at a Boston vendue for so 
many pence, — only because we do not know the worth of 
pictures. However, if the allluent have no worse passion 
than a passion for fine paintings, let them enjoy both by 
day and night their sleeping Yenuses, or wanton with the 
houris over the landscapes of Claude Lorrain. 

The time now aj)])roached when it was expected that the 
royal family would walk on the terrace. Tlie terrace is 
situate on tlie declivity of the hill southeasterly from the 

1 It was a most striking likeness of Lord TlmrlDw. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 283 

castle. It is a charming walk, faced with freestone, and, 
as I judge, is nearly two thousand feet in length. Here, in 
fine weather, their Majesties with the princes and prin- 
cesses, accompanied by a band of musicians, graciously 
walk at six o'clock in the evening to show themselves to 
strangers. Behind the royal family came several lords in 
waiting whom I stupidly mistook for liveried servants ; so 
nearly allied, sometimes, is the height of greatness to the 
height of meanness. There were as many as a hundred 
strangers who lined the terrace to view this royal exhibi- 
tion. As his Majesty passed by they stood uncovered, he 
himself frequently bowing to the spectators. 

The same evening we proceeded to Maidenhead. A 
sound sleep would have been highly agreeable, but like all 
strangers who tarry in that town, we were compelled to lie 
awake. At every half-hour a watchman crying the time 
of night passed under my window, and what made the 
matter worse he tagged every thirty minutes with " Praise 
the Lord ! Amen ! " A monkish relic, I suppose. 

Our landlord, one of the most civil men in the world, 
had risen before us and seemed really sorry to have us go 
before breakfast. The English inns are certainly the most 
accommodating places in the world ; two knocks on the 
table will immediately produce all the effects of magic. 
1 have never met in England but one innkeeper who 
did not appear to be a gentleman. This was at Newbury. 
It is the custom for most of the English to drink at every 
inn at which a stage stops. As the English travel day and 
night, a passenger will sometimes drink about twelve times 
in the twenty-four hours, besides what he drinks at dinner. 
The landlord, having waited on those who were most 
pressing for drink, at length came up to one of the pas- 
sengers and asked him what he would have. The pas- 
senger assured him that he had drunk five times since 



284 LETTERS FKOM LONDON. 

dinner, and could not venture on any more. " But then," 
said the landlord, " what shall 1 make by you ? " •■' Oh, sir, 
you shall lose nothing by me," replied the passenger; '-if 
you will be so good as to deduct from a pint of porter the 
original cost and duties, I will pay you the diU'erence 
between that amount and the retail j^rice." 

AVe breakfasted at Henley, a considerable countiT town ; 
and while breakfast was preparing, 1 went into a neighbor- 
ing churchyard — the place of most interest in many 
country towns — to read the epitaphs, some of which were 
highly impressive, though written in very bad taste. Pos- 
sibly without knowing it, the writers of these epitaphs 
sometimes hit upon the sublime of human character. The 
following epitaph I met with in a country village : " Here 
lies the body of Henry Steele. He was a good son and a 
good brother, a good husband and a good father ; and the 
neighbors all followed him to his grave." 

Between Henley and Oxford, the prospects, scenery, and 
cultivation, the ripe and abundant harvest of wheat, the 
mellow temperature of the season, — all conspired to 
enhance those pleasures which liberal Nature offers to the 
senses. 

" Surely," said I, " this is a delightful country ! " 
"Yes," replied my companion, "but finish your rhapsody 
quickly, or it will end in a sarcasm." I looked up and 
saw at a distance a company of gleaners approaching, 
with their arms full of sheaves. "There," said he, " your 
first reflection will be that, although Providence has lav- 
ished an abundant harvest, this little company of gleaners 
will scarcely have in winter bread enough, while the grana- 
ries, in mockery of Ceres, will hold much of this wheat 
until it rots. But who can help it, if monopolizers frus- 
trate God's providence ? " 

As the gleaners passed by, I asked one of them why 



LETTERS FEOM LONDON. 285 

they went so far to glean, when the reapers were so busy 
all around. " Oh, sir," said another of the company who 
seemed to be the brightest, " it is not every farmer that 
permits us to glean, nor is it a favor granted to every 
one." 

We passed on. " Ah," said my fellow-traveller, shrug- 
ging his shoulders in raillery, " this would be a charming 
country if there -were no men in it ! " 

In the evening we arrived at Oxford, an inland city, 
about sixty miles northwesterly from London, and famous 
all over the world as a nursery of great men and great 
scholars. Oxford particularly is an object of curiosity on 
account of the variety of Gothic architecture. The col- 
leges, twenty in number, are very large, and some of them 
are noble buildings in the Gothic style. Separated from 
one another at considerable distance, they give the city a 
most venerable and solemn aspect. Oxford too has the 
happiness of being visited by the Thames, of all rivers in 
the world the most adored by Englishmen. The Hindoos 
do not hold the Ganges in higher veneration than do the 
English this river, and should they become idolaters they 
would pay divine honors to silver Thames. The Cherwell, 
too, and the more humble Isis are in the neighborhood 
of Oxford. 

In the morning we waited on Mr. Portall. I cannot 
express to you how cordially he received us ; he gave us 
two days of unwearied attention. He is a ripe scholar 
and, what is more, a man of good sense. He seemed to 
partake of the satisfaction he afforded in showing us every- 
thing remarkable in the different colleges, which he ren- 
dered doubly impressive by adding all the interesting 
particulars which have been collecting for ages. 

The Bodleian Library, the largest in the world except 
that of the Vatican at Rome, contains many precious, 



28G LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

unilliimincd manuscripts, ^vhich no doubt in the course 
of centuries will enrapture many an antiquary, as will the 
Arundclian marbles lately arrived from the East. These 
fragments were imported at great expense; and probably 
when the inscriptions are deciphered, it will be found that 
they amount to nothing more than some loose cou])lets to 
a favorite mistress, or what is more pernicious, that they 
record the apotheosis of some tyrant. 

Some of these manuscripts are so exceedingly obscure 
that it is not yet ascertained in what language they are 
written. It is told with considerable humor that one of 
them was presented to a famous antiquary, who after six 
months returned it, giving his serious opinion that the 
manuscript was a ramification of a branch of a dialect 
of the language which was spoken by the northern Huns 
who broke down the Great Wall of China ! 

This immense library was to me a source of various re- 
flection. " Here," thought I, " is collected not a little of 
the nonsense of the days of monkery, much of the truth 
and falsehood of antiquity, the romantic extravagance of 
the days of chivalry, ' whicli now, alas, are gone forever ! ' 
and the more dangerous, because more subtle, dictates of 
modern tyranny." The wonderful exertion of the human 
mind whicli this library displays produced a mingled emo- 
tion of admiration, pity, and contempt for the sublimity, 
perversion, and meanness of the race of ])hiloso]>hers and 
authors. Nine tenths of the volumes here laid uj) in liter- 
ary penance ought to have sent their authors to bedlam ; 
for every famous book filled with more errors than truths 
adds a new link to the chain of error. Notwithstanding 
truth is eternal, and error temporary, yet owing to self- 
interest, passion, and wrong-headedncss, there are in all 
countries ten errors published for every one truth ; hence 
we ought not to wonder at the doubt in whicli men of 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 287 

sense are involved, nor at the inconsistencies into which 
the thoughtless fall. Truth and error are at first received 
by mankind with equal credit, and when these ten errors 
are discovered the solitary truth is not secure, for out of 
mere resentment the errors turn persecutors. 

Your fancy cannot figure, either in Arcadia or in imag- 
inary Parnassus, more charming retreats for contemplation, 
or more inspiring recesses for prosecuting lofty composi- 
tion than those afforded by the secluded gardens of the 
colleges. Here the peripatetics might have forgotten 
their favorite wallas, or the more refined Epicurus and 
his disciples their earthly paradise. Here Art has success- 
fully introduced the varieties of Nature, and administers 
to the senses at the same time she expands the heart and 
elevates the mind. No wonder this is classic ground ; no 
wonder this University is the nursery of so many veterans 
in the republic of letters. "Whether they prefer to contem- 
plate mankind, explore Nature through the various forma- 
tion and use of the leaf, or, leaving the garden, to ascend to 
the heavens, they have within their reach every assistance 
to establish truth or confute error. Oxford has at present 
fifteen hundred students. 

Here is the largest collection of paintings by the great 
masters which I have ever seen. Some of the more public 
apartments of the colleges seem to revive the Italian and 
Flemish schools. Nor do the Dutch make an awkward 
appearance among the more southern artists, although a 
Dutchman rarely considers his painting finished until he 
has introduced a dirty table, with pipes, tobacco, and a 
pot of Geneva, together with a fishing-smack in a fresh 
breeze ; but if the latter cannot be introduced the artist is 
content to hang up a large ham and several pounds of 
Bologna sausages over the fireplace. 

At four o'clock we dined at St. John's with Mr. Portall 



288 LETTERS FiiOM LONDON. 

and several other Fellows of that college. The apartment 
was decent and the furniture elegant. The dinner was per- 
haps too suinj)tuous and gross for those who are laboring 
up the hill of science. According to custom, or more j)rob- 
ably as a compliment to the guests, dinner was, scarcely 
ended when coffee was introduced, and immediately after 
that supper was on the table ; so we did not rise from din- 
ner, coffee, and supper until nearly ten o'clock. If these 
are usual habits, Aristipjms would be found there much 
oftencr than Zeno. During the entertainment, questions 
were naturally multiplied respecting our own country. The 
company seemed delighted to hear that their own great 
men were perhaps more generally known and read in the 
United States than in England. It was a romantic pleas- 
ure to imagine the reverberating echoes of their own 
labors in what they were pleased to term the wilderness. 
They were not a little surprised when I told them that 
there were no cities in England, excepting London, which 
could vie with New York, Philadelphia, or even Boston. A 
regret was expressed that we arc no longer one peoi)le. I 
laughingly told them that this is their own fault, for doubt- 
less tlie United States would accept them as a colony. 

After a morning excursion along the banks of the Isis, 
a stream made sacred by the poems of Mason and Warton, 
we took our leave of Mr. Portall, who now added those 
cordialities which gave a double interest to his warm recep- 
tion of us. 

We proceeded to Woodstock, about eight miles from Ox- 
ford, to take a view of Blenheim House, the seat of the 
Duke of Marlborough. On our way thither we stopped at 
a cottage to buy a draught of beer. There was only an 
elderly woman witli her daughter at home ; the latter of 
whom appeared to be ten years of age, and was sitting at 
a table learning to write. The mother regarded us with- 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 289 

out the least curiosity, but seemed gratified when we ex- 
amined the little girl's writing-book, and offered to mend 
her pens and set her some new copies ; those from wliich 
she was writing being very little better than her own at- 
tempts. When we had ruled her book through, and set 
her more than twenty copies, she was highly pleased with 
the fairness of the writing, and showing it to her mother, 
said, " John himself cannot write half so well." This in- 
cident is not otherwise worthy of notice than by way of 
comparison. This woman lived in rustic retirement, and 
saw less of the world than if she lived in a village ; yet 
though we were travelling on foot, an unusual sight in 
England, and presumed to enter a private dwelling-house 
with no other view than to buy a draught of beer, a suspi- 
cious circumstance, this good woman eyed us with no at- 
tention, asked us no questions, and courted no knowledge 
of our pursuit. How different in our own country ! In 
such a case the good woman would first inquire whence 
we came, and whither we were going, and what might be 
our business. Then she would contrive to find out our 
names. Then, pausing a moment to recollect if she knew, 
or had ever heard of the names before, she would ask if 
our grandfathers or grandmothers were not related to Mr. 
or Mrs. Such-a-one. This would naturally lead to all the 
good woman knew. 

"Woodstock is doubly famous on account both of the 
past and the present. Here Geoffrey Chaucer was born, 
and here he spent most of his days ; but in vain I looked 
for that door-stone which one of our own bards has so 
happily imagined : — 

" Chaucer on his door-stone sits and sings, 
And tells his merry tales of knights and kings." 

Woodstock is famous at present for being the seat of 

19 



290 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

the Duke of Marlborough, and for gentlemen's fashion- 
able gloves and steel wutch-chains. 

At the great gate of the ample domain of his Grace 
■\ve were received by one of those persons, powdered for 
the occasion, whom you so frequently find in the service 
of great men. He was an elderly man, who in the course 
of perhaps forty years had accumulated ten thousand par- 
ticulars respecting this country-seat, and which he had 
told ten thousand times, pi'obably without the least varia- 
tion. Thus : " Do, pray, gentlemen, take a view of the 
river from this artificial eminence ; see how it opens upon 
that lawn, how picturesque that little wilderness of trees. 
Now cast your eye a little to the right, and observe that 
island, seemingly afloat ; turn a step to the left and see 
the monument, — you have certainly heard of that monu- 
ment, how it breaks upon you when it is seen from the 
other side of the river, while the trees seem suddenly to 
retire. Fair Rosamond lived yonder, — you have certainly 
lieard of Fair Rosamond." In the same manner he ran 
over everything which concerned his particular office. 

When we came to the bridge which is between the pal- 
ace and the monument, I ventured to ask the servant if 
the stream over which the bridge is built was always as 
wide as it is at present. He regarded me with a look of 
suspicion, and replied in the negative. He may have sup- 
posed that I had seen the famous ejMgram on this bridge, 
made in the time of the first Duke of Marlborough : 

" This mighty bridge his great ambition shows. 
The stream an emblem of his bounty flows." 

The monument is a jiroud ])ile, "distant from the palace 
about half a mile. It celebrates on one side all Churchill's 
merits as a soldier ; and on another side it gives an ex- 
tract from the Act of Parliament, presenting Blenheim 
House and domain to John Churchill, etc. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 291 

We now turned and approached the mansion. The pow- 
dered gentleman began to discourse on its architecture, 
which he thought rather too low and heavy, but added : 
" It is in the usual style of Sir John Vanbrugh," not for- 
getting the epitaph : — 

" Lay heavy on him earth ! for he 
Laid many a heavy load on thee." 

At the gate of the palace there were five other visitors 
waiting to view the apartments. Between the hours of 
two and four the family retire in order to accommodate 
strangers. 

There was nothing in the palace worthy of particular 
notice except a collection of pictures, many of them by the 
Italian and Flemish masters, which had been presented to 
the first Duke of Marlborough. A few of the paintings 
were on a large scale, exhibiting his exploits. Here is the 
largest library, except the Bodleian, which 1 have ever 
seen ; but the neglected appearance of the books confers 
very little honor upon their authors. The dining-room and 
dining-table, which was set for dinner, were simply elegant, 
as was her Grace's bedchamber. 

The powdered gentleman endeavored to persuade us to 
admire the damask bed-quilt, the history of which con- 
sumed some time. He had now completed his usual cir- 
cuit, and having received the fees which he exacted, — the 
amount of which would have maintained the first Duke of 
Marlborough a week, — we were dismissed into the hands 
of the keeper of the park, who finished his official duties 
with a like demand. Here I had another opportunity of 
observing how nearly the height of greatness is sometimes 
allied to the lowest meanness. I should despise that 
man in the United States who would condescend to raise 
a revenue on the curiosity of his own countrymen or 
from strangers. 



292 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

This system of exaction runs down from the royal palace 
to the waiter at the coffcc-liouse or the more humble ordi- 
nary. It cannot be supposed that their ^fajestics or the 
Duke of Marlborough lease out these lucrative offices ; but 
in the lower ranks of society they are objects of specula- 
tion. One of the waiters at a London coffee-house in- 
formed me that to secure his place he paid to his master 
weekly the sum of eight shillings sterling I This needs 
no comment. I just add that with a few exceptions you 
find in England but two sorts of people, beggars by privi- 
lege, and their co-relatives, beggars from necessity. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXIV. 

London, July 29. 

You request a sketch of the state of society in England. 
The few hundred miles westerly from London which I have 
travelled, will hardly warrant my speaking generally ; be- 
sides society here is so diversified that if you speak gener- 
ally you are in danger of falling into an exception, and if 
you would speak particularly, you must enter into every- 
body's kitchen. It is as difficult to describe the state 
of society as it is to delineate the characters of the Eng- 
lish ; for though they are slaves to the opinions which are 
held by people of their own class, yet they object to being 
exactly like their neighbors. Hence you would see no 
Dutch fashions which last a lumdrcd years, no blind attach- 
ment to an idol Lama, no uniform state of indifference as 
in Spain. In short, England is in a continual state of 
various experiment; everything seems inconsistent. The 
nobleman frequently forgets his peerage, and the jilebeian 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 293 

frequently imagines himself a nobleman. You find a sin- 
gular compound of liberty and slavery, of dignity and ser- 
vility, some little degree of equality, yet every one despising 
those below himself. Not an individual in the nation 
knows the form of government, or knows what it may be 
three months hence. Under the mere form of law and of 
freedom, it is a perfect political despotism ; and though 
the people may protest that it is otherwise, they have no rep- 
resentatives in Parliament. The people, indeed, are fully 
persuaded they ought to be free, and the Parliament, fear- 
ful lest they should resort to first principles, is willing to 
persuade them they are free. Hence while most other 
governments are supported by main force or passive con- 
sent, the English system is conducted by mutual conces- 
sion. Except at the beginning and conclusion of a war, 
the king is nothing ; yet he docs not lose his dignity in 
time of peace, though he may be little more than a King 
Log. 

The private history of this people is a subject equally 
for the philosopher and the buffoon. Their public history 
is a little more consistent and offers more uniformity, 
though less honesty. You perceive the same spirit stream- 
ing down from Jack Cade and Wat Tyler to John Hamp- 
den and William Beckford, though Cade and Tyler do 
not rank in history with the latter, merely because they 
were not gentlemen of education. It is true, however, that 
the public history of a powerful people is no criterion of 
their domestic happiness. Like certain beautiful and 
majestic women, such a people will show best at a dis- 
tance, and possibly be most envied when least known. 

The few notices which I am enabled to offer on the 
present state of society will be partly drawn from my own 
observation, and partly from as good intelligence as I 
have been able to procure without seeming to seek it 



294 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

directly, for the English have one very great foible, — if 
they are ever disposed to deceive, it is in order to gain a 
stranger's good opinion ; yet all of a sudden they are per- 
fectly indifferent if you are unwilling to admit their pre- 
tensions. So that if they do not pay, they do not exact 
deference. 

I shall state a few facts from which, with the help of a 
little imagination, you may draw a passably correct infer- 
ence. The land in England is either possessed by the 
nobility, or monopolized in a great measure by private in- 
dividuals ; hence all the miseries of the feudal system. 
From this you will readily conclude that the tenants are 
in a state of slavery. The fruits of industry do not go 
to cheer the domestic hearth ; and although the English 
peasantry are not serfs, their condition is hardly more en- 
viable than that of serfs : every change of master would 
serve only to render them less respectable and more dis- 
tressed. It is for the interest of the landlord to retain his 
peasantry in a condition just above absolute want, and to 
discourage their removing from one master to another. 
Should they be permitted to attain a competency, the land- 
lords would be ruined. The next generation would lower 
the price of leases ; the third would be capable of pur- 
chasing the fee simple, and the lands, unless sold, would 
lie uncultivated. The contemplation of this state of things 
would burst the blood-vessel of New England ; but I am 
only a spectator and can write with moderation. 

The aspect of commerce will affoi'd another insight into 
the state of society. Rapid acquisitions of fortune, pomp, 
and luxury, attend commerce ; but in her train she carries 
misery in a thousand shapes. Commerce is not so odi- 
ous in monarciiies, where aristocracy is essential ; but in 
small republics it is destructive, and in great republics it 
is an evil, unless its spirit be fully counteracted by agri- 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 295 

culture. In tlie scale of nations, England would be notli- 
ing without commerce ; therefore if commerce be an evil, 
it is a necessary evil. Besides, I think it doubtful if 
the people be not happier in having the alternative of 
gleaning in the fields of their landlords, or of becoming 
the drudges of merchants. 

One misfortune allies itself to commerce without any 
possible remedy ; it creates the most odious of all aris- 
tocracies, — the unfeeling and unprincipled aristocracy of 
sudden wealth. Then, destitute of every generous senti- 
ment, the man is disposed to retaliate on society for all 
those hardships which he has suffered in his adversity. 
Commerce has the head of a serpent, the arms of a tyrant, 
and the feet of a slave. It soon beggars a part of society 
and flourishes in their ruin, while this miserable portion 
is reduced to the necessity of administering to their own 
depression; for the more wealthy and powerful a few in- 
dividuals become, the more weak and miserable are their 
neighbors. This evil, which it is not in the power of the 
statesman to remedy, necessarily flows from commerce. 
If agriculture produces a similar effect, the effect is not 
necessary but artificial. 

Legislation cannot operate on commerce in the light in 
which I am now considering it, but it can operate on land. 
The law has only to abrogate the rights which attach to 
primogeniture, and the face of Nature in England would 
immediately wear a different aspect. Society in this par- 
ticular would find its level as soon as the falling water- 
spout finds its level with the ocean. Such a law, if it were 
made to operate at a certain future time, might take effect 
without injuring any individual. Legislation may operate 
on land in a thousand ways. The people of Lucca so pro- 
portioned their taxes to the landed interest of each indi- 
vidual that when his land exceeded a certain number of 



296 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

acres, the tax on the supernumerary acres exceeded the 
rcnt.^ But these observations with respect to England are 
altogether futile ; for the abolition of the right of primo- 
geniture would effect an entire change of the English sys- 
tem. The nobility will never suffer this. " Quieijuid 
enim Libertati plcbis caveretur, id suis deccdcrc opibus 
crcdunt." ^ 

You will think a country sufficiently wretched under 
these circumstances ; but in this country there is another 
evil flowing from commerce, which one cannot contem- 
plate without pain. If the English merchants, like the 
Ilamburghers or the Dutch, traded in foreign merchandise, 
or, like most of the merchants of the United States, in the 
produce of agriculture, commerce might not operate so de- 
plorably. The English merchant, like the spider, literally 
spins his web from the bowels of his fellow-subjects. FA\g- 
land is the first, or among the first manufacturing coun- 
tries in Europe ; consequently among the most miserable. 
Every nation is miserable in proportion to her manufac- 
tories. Commerce operates indirectly, but manufactories 
directly, against equality. They are the stone of Sisyphus, 
and the wheel of Ixion. The labor of thousands goes to 
enrich an individual. The daily bread of the workmen is 
precarious; if those employments to which they are edu- 
cated fail, they are reduced to the condition of your com- 
mon sort of gentlemen who have dissipated their property, 
— they are fit for nothing. A manufactory cannot flourish 
unless the laborers sacrifice themselves to their employers; 
for the employers are as much interested to retain the 

1 Suppose there sliould l)e a law in our own country jtroliiliitinix .inyciti/cn 
possessing more than three, four, or five hundred acres of hxml, citlicr for 
himself or to his use, within the territory of liis own Commonwealtli ? Such 
a law is alre.ady desirable, and mii;ht he passed in prrrsoiti to operate in 
futuro, suppose seven years, witliout prejudice to auy iudividual. 

- Livv, iii. 55. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 297 

laborers in indigence as are the landlords to impoverish 
their tenants. Nor is this all ; the bodies of the work- 
men are not less distorted than are their souls contracted. 
Their children are a lampoon on God's image, and carry 
through life the distortions of their parents. 

I have now given you the outlines of tliat state of so- 
ciety which every nation would present under similar cir- 
cumstances. There is nothing in England of which I 
am aware, that substantially counteracts the operation of 
commerce, manufactures, and the tenure of land. 

I know that every man has his own mode of reasoning, 
and sees things through a medium peculiar to himself. 
Some esteem that the happiest country which shows the 
charming sight of a village peasantry ^ in the vicinity of a 
magnificent palace. Others, like the Chinese mentioned 
in a former letter, will esteem that country happiest where 
five and twenty servants are attached to an individual 
master. Some will consider that the happiest country 
in which the labor of thousands enriches a few. Others, 
like Lord Ellenborough, reasoning more abstractly, and 
taking a more general view of things, will think that the 
happiest country where a golden inequality ^ prevails. To 
such, the even surface and the waving harmony of a 
field of corn convey no pleasure. I differ from all these 
authorities, and believe that to be the happiest country 
where labor is most equally divided and the decencies of 
life are most easily obtained, 

I know that man is disposed to give himself preference 

1 The English farmers all live in a gentlemanly style, much superior to 
the farmers of New England ; but those who do the offices of agriculture in 
England are the peasants. We have no peasants in the United States. 
Peasants, or hinds, or boors, are not dignified with the name of farmers. 

2 At the trial of Despard, the following charge which his Lordship alleged 
against the prisoner was not the least important, that " he had conspired 
against their most desirable state of inequality." 



298 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

whenever he can ; and when we look around on society 
we see that this selfishness is in great danger of being 
increased beyond toleration. We are ready to exclaim : 
" This man ought to be a slave, that man was born to be 
subservient, and the third, even from the dawn of reflection, 
was unprincipled." But this mode of reasoning is not 
better than that of the West India planter, who complained 
he had the worst slaves on the island, and yet he whipped 
them the most. It is false reasoning to assert that, be- 
cause the majority of any people have lost the character of 
man, they were never capable of being good citizens. In 
the United States human nature has often retrieved its 
character when England has thought her subjects not 
worth hanging. In short, it is the part of most govern- 
ments to render their subjects bad ; then they have a 
pretext for rendering them still worse. The man who 
dies at Newgate between the hours of eight and nine in 
the morning little thinks that possibly his crimes and his 
fate are a necessary part of that very system which has 
condemned him. 

A citizen of the United States will naturally ask, " How 
is it possible for such a state of things to exist? What 
connecting principle is there to support a fabric so enor- 
mously dispro})ortionate ?" Is not the top of a pyramid 
as secure as the bottom ? Now, all civil society partakes 
in a greater or less degree of the form of the pyramid. 
The broader the foundation the more weight it supports, 
and the more secure is the column. How can this evil in 
society be remedied ? It can be remedied only by counter- 
action. In my next letter 1 shall descend to particulars, 
and perhaps qualify in some measure the impression 
which this may give you. 

Adieu, 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 299 



LETTER XXXV. 

London, August 12. 

Among the many millions who cover the face of this lit- 
tle spot of earth, there are many who enjoy all that mor- 
tals, circumscribed only by their own dispositions, can en- 
joy. If the Englishman frequently fortifies himself against 
happiness, and sleeps on thorns in the midst of roses, it 
is his pleasure, whim, or madness. There is certainly 
sufficient affluence in England to give a stranger from a 
country like ours a lasting impression. The eye is not 
continually turned on misery, nor the ear always listening 
to the tale of distress, nor is the heart rendered more hard 
by unceasing calls to commiseration. 

The sedate countenance, the rolling eyes, the careless 
swing of the arms, and the easy step prove that many of 
the middling class are in easy circumstances, and have a 
contented heart ; while tlie more guarded step, the more 
costly though careless dress, and the more erect head of 
another class show their affluence and self-complacency. 
The simplicity of the Quakers does not forbid them to 
display their general prosperity by the best apparel, which 
owing to its modest color does not attract notice. 

There is still another class, who never know a want 
which is not gratified too soon for the pleasure of full frui- 
tion. They command the four seasons. If they are not 
happy, they are impious. Nor is this class of subjects 
small, though among nine millions it would be difficult 
to find them. 

These are the natural conclusions of my last letter. 
For if a few rich suppose many poor, the contrary is also 



300 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

true, — many })oor suppose a few rich. It is impossible 
that a cultivated country should not be at least partially 
rich, or that an industrious people should be universally 
poor. And if such a people in general are necessitous, 
neither CJod nor Nature is to blame ; for it was never 
meant that man should suffer a double curse, — lose his 
sweat ^ and then lose his bread. 

The English system is not a little alleviated by the noble 
generosity of thousands. The sight of the poor does not 
always offend the eye of the aflluent. It is the ])art of 
many to relent while oppressing ; and it frequently hap- 
pens that those who arc most interested in the sui)port of 
certain principles are the first to counteract their ten- 
dency. The merchants are celebrated for their mainten- 
ance of charities ^ founded on voluntary subscription. The 
highwayman sometimes returns a part of his plunder. 

The condition in which most of the people of England 
are born, ought to be noticed as a further alleviating cir- 
cumstance. A citizen of the United States cannot liave a 
just view of the state of society in this country unless he is 
informed that the feelings of the poor are entirely different 
from the feelings of the people of the United States. The 
English lose the disposition to reflect even before they ar- 
rive at the years of reflection. A situation, a hopeless situ- 
ation, which one might suppose would awaken their souls 
to agony and rouse their feelings to rebellion, reduces 
them to stupidity. Hence the condition which in the 
United States would be shunned as the greatest misfor- 
tune, is in England a state of contentment, and not infre- 
quently an object of desire. This is certainly a hajijjv 

1 Moderate labor is the first dictate of Nature. The economy of man 
sufBcieutly proves this, — the circulatiou of the blood and tlie activity of 
the mind. 

2 A multitude of charities and hospitals are a sure mark of a nation's 
misery. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 301 

circumstance since it saves society from the influence of 
those persons wlio would otherwise become desperate. The 
man who is born heir to a wheelbarrow seldom aspires to 
a handcart. 

You will often see at the west end of London one, two, 
three, and even four men, always more than decently and 
sometimes elegantly dressed, standing behind a carriage 
and supporting themselves with the holders. If it rains, 
they are indulged with umbrellas. Many of these men 
are not more than twenty or twenty-five years of age. 
Their majestic height, broad shoulders, straight bodies, and 
taper legs would have induced Hercules to enlist them in 
some of his expeditions. These people have the appearance 
of the most perfect contentment. They are pleased with 
their party-colored clothes, and never seem more happy 
than when they exhibit themselves to the public. Nor is 
this all ; they claim a sort of distinction, and affect to 
look down on the more respectable man who cries his 
wares. 

Another numerous class spend their days behind the 
counter. Such would be more respectably employed in fel- 
ling wood in the Appalachian mountains. They do the 
work of girls, and deprive them of bread. Such and many 
others, however contemptible they may appear, do not in- 
crease the national misery otherwise than as drones. 

The condition of the lowest class of English women 
attracts particular notice. They are habitually occupied 
in the most laborious offices. I have se.en a few making 
bricks ; others, chiefly Welsh women, carry yokes fastened 
to their shoulders, and from these yokes two pails of milk 
are suspended. Others act as porters, and not a few propel 
wheelbarrows, while sometimes the more hardy lade and 
unlade vessels, or work in the coal mines. Sad offspring 
of woman, of whom it is said, — 



302 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

" Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, 
In every gesture dignity and love." 

All this, for aujjht I know, may be worse in other parts 
of Europe; but nothing of this was ever seen in New 
England. Do you think it strange that in such circum- 
stances women should wish to unsex themselves ? 

In England the poor who are sufliciently honest to la- 
bor for their daily bread do not anticipate a comfortable 
old age, nor even look forward to the time when their daily 
bread will not be the price of daily labor. Tliey forever 
tarry on the wrong side of Jordan. If they are sick, and 
the laborious poor are most subject to sickness, they are 
overwhelmed by the tide of adversity and become a j)ul>lic 
burden. They are so sensible of this that many with a 
determined and abandoned purpose give themselves up 
to debauchery. 

In passing through the suburbs of London, I had fre- 
quently observed a very industrious man and woman mak- 
ing bricks. I had given tlicm sixjience ^ and sometimes I 
liad stopped to talk with them. I knew their constant 
labor and the amount of their daily pay ; yet I never heard 
them complain. " Surely," thought I, " persons who are thus 
contented to work all the year and lay up nothing, are 
valuable subjects and very honest folk." On a Sunday 
morning not long since, as I was passing by nii inn I 
observed both this man and his wife lying on the floor and 
buried in forgctfulncss. In the evening as I was returning, 
I called on the innkeeper, to inquire if that was their 
usual Sunday frolic. The man and his wife were still 
there, senseless. I asked the publican if they liad not 
come to their senses since morning. " Not quite," said he, 
" that is the least of their concern ; they have recovered 
themselves two or three times, just enough to call for more 

^ Laborers expect a small sum if you show them tiio least attention. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 303 

liquor." In the course of the week I observed these people 
at work as usual and undertook to remonstrate. Far from 
being abashed, they hazarded a justification ; and how do 
you think they reasoned ? They had long endeavored, they 
said, to better their circumstances, but found it altogether 
in vain, for some unforeseen accident had always deprived 
them of the earnings of weeks ; that the surgeon ^ would 
have their money if the publican did not, and of the two, 
they preferred to give it to the publican. " But in case of 
sickness what would you do?" "Oh," said the woman, 
repeating the first couplet of an old song, — 

" Hang sorrow, and cast away care, 
The parish are bound to find us." 

Another occurrence, not less to the purpose, made a 
similar impression on me. It was at Bristol, where I 
lately spent a few days. I was purchasing a pair of boots 
of a woman whose husband kept a shoe-store. She ap- 
peared to be a worthy woman, and I congratulated her 
on her seemingly flourishing circumstances. " Ah, sir," 
said she, " we should do very well, if the price of labor 
was not so high. Indeed, sir, we are obliged to give 
our journeymen so much money that it ruins them, and 
they are drunk one half of their time, and not fit to 
work the other half." This was after I had purchased the 
boots. I have forgotten how much she told me the weekly 
pay of the journeymen amounted to, but I endeavored to 
convince her that it was impossible for them with double 
the wages to maintain a small family. " Ah," replied the 
good woman, " what would they do with a family ? They 
cannot take care of themselves." " But do you think they 
would do better if they had less wages ? " " Certainly," 

1 The phj-sicians are not answerable for the death of the poor ; that is tl:e 
concern of the surgeon or the apothecary. 



304 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

she replied, " they would then mind their business, and not 
get drunk." I said no more, and she thought she had 
the best of the argument. 

Now, ought we to wonder if most of the laborers and 
manufacturers are drunkards? Those who drink most eat 
least; and it costs them less to get drunk than it does 
to fill their bellies with wholesome provision. 

Another instance is not less illustrative. I attended the 
trials at the Old Bailey. A prisoner was tried on a capital 
indictment and acquitted. My own heart bounded with joy ; 
but he heard the verdict " Not guilty " pronounced with as 
much indifference as I have seen others receive the sentence 
of death. This surprised me, for his acquittal was un- 
expected, and ought to have excited his hapi)icst feelings. 
He was immediately discharged, and I followed him out 
of court, and asked the cause of his apparent unconcern. 
He rciilied with contemptuous apathy : " How do I know 
that I shall not soon have to go through this disagree- 
able business again ? " This explained the secret why so 
many criminals in England die heroically. They foresee 
their fate, and die their natural death. 

Perhaps in these notices I have descended too frequently 
to low life ; but the circles in which the great and the little 
move are of very different circumference. If one frequent 
the company of the great only, and bound his views within 
the purlieus of St. James's, doubtless he would describe 
England as a paradise ; but he would know no more of the 
people than he would of the Romans from reading the lives 
of Cffisar, Cato, and Pompcy.^ But if he should travel in the 
Pythagorean style, conversing with every man he met, and 
comparing the generality of Englishmen with their race of 
horses, he would pronounce the condition of the latter 

1 No one from reading the history of these men would suppose Rome con- 
tained five hundred inhabitants; so easy is it to overlook aniilliou of people! 



LETTEES FROM LONDON. 305 

preferable to that of the former. I speak this with 
guarded caution, conscious of its reckless illiberality if it 
is not true ; but I believe no one who has ever made the 
comparison will hesitate to pronounce the English horses 
better fed than the English subjects.^ 

A writer, Colquhoun, whom I have quoted before, says : 
" The commutation of perpetual labor for the price of life 
is thought too severe by the legislature. A moment's re- 
flection, however, will show that in point of manual labor, 
the hardship to be imposed is no more tiian every honest 
artisan who works industriously for his family must dur- 
ing the whole course of his life impose on himself. The 
condition of a convict would in some respects be superior, 
inasmuch as he would have medical assistance and other 
advantages tending to the preservation of health, which 
do not attach to the lowest classes of the people." I do 
not coincide with all this, but I think it probable that had 
Mr. Bruce in Abyssinia, or had Mr. Park in Africa, discov- 
ered a people in the same situation as those of whom Mr, 
Colquhoun speaks, the English would instantly open sub- 
scriptions, and send an expedition to the relief of that 
people ; yes, even to the source of the Nile. 

I have found it impossible to avoid several seeming in- 
consistencies. The English system is perhaps the most 
intricate labyrinth in which any people ever found them- 
selves involved. Man is the creature of the government 
under which he lives : from that he takes his disposition, 
his carriage, his sentiments, his vices and virtues. If the 
government be complicated, the motives from which the 
people act will often appear extraordinary, while in reality 
the motives may be founded in secret reason or in .absolute 
necessity. 

1 In a late treatise, Dr. Buchan has given, it as his opinion that bread 
is too good for the poor, and has offered a cheaper substitute. I wonder 
•why the doctor did not propose saw-dust. 

20 



306 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

I have told you the English are exceedingly humane and 
charitable,^ yet the poor fare worse than the horses. I 
have remarked that the merchants are naturally well dis- 
posed, yet their commercial spirit obliges them to become 
hard and oppressive. They would be among the first to 
support the cause of liberty at home ; so they would be 
among the first to support the cause of slavery abroad. 
Tlicir natural dispositions are good, but they are selfish 
from principle. 

In former letters I have more than once observed that 
the English populace frequently display marks of a free 
people, while at the same moment you are ready to pro- 
nounce them slaves. No one can comprehend the cause 
of these inconsistencies, unless he takes an extensive view 
of the various operations of the English system, which dis- 
torts the subject into more shapes than the imagination 
can figure. 

Would to God I might be heard across the Atlantic ! 
I would proclaim to my fellow-citizens their proud pre- 
eminence in the ranks of civil society. I would show them 
the Constitution of England, fair in theory as the divine 
forms of Plato ; in its operation on the great mass of sub- 
jects as different from the Constitution of the United 
States as the condition of the English peasant is different 
from that of the Green Mountain farmer. I would im- 
press on them the futility of a government which affects 

1 The English claim the merit of being the most generous and humane 
people in tlio world. Their public and private history certainly exliibit tliera 
under very different aspects. If one knew nothing of this people except 
from tlieir i)ublic history, ho would suppose every Englishman walked the 
streets with a dub on his slioulder. The truth is, John Bull has a foil)le : 
you must appeal to his humanity, if you wish to soften liim ; otherwise, lie will 
often resist the soundest reason. Many of our own people are strongly jire- 
judiced against the English. This originated in the American devolution ; 
but it is not the Englisli character that is detestable, it is the Euglish 
system. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 307 

liberty on the hereditary principle, reduces the people to 
beggary, and, like the crocodile, devours its own offspring. 
I would conjure them by past happiness and future pros- 
pects, to cherish that Constitution which produces men, 
which is more powerful than despotism in restraining the 
worst, and all-efficient in exciting the best, tendencies of 
man. I would say to the citizens of the United States : 
Be constant to yourselves. You have nothing to fear from 
your Constitution ; but your Constitution has everything 
to fear from you. Adieu. 



LETTER XXXYI. 

London, August 22. 

Erskine, Gibbs, and Garrow are the three most powerful 
speakers in the courts of law. 

The person of Erskine is slender, his height not exceed- 
ing the common size ; his complexion is sallow ; his hair 
dark ; his face oval and a little emaciated ; the lower part 
of his forehead prominent, yet gradually retreating ; his 
eyebrows full and a little knitted ; his eyes arc hazel, open, 
and conciliatory ; his nose is narrow between the eyes, yet 
neither too large nor too small ; his mouth is gently closed, 
seeming ready to await the dictates of his tongue, yet it is 
not large enough to give his eloquence its just tone ; his 
lips are thin, meeting in union, and when irritated inclin- 
ing to retreat rather than to project ; his chin is gently 
retreating, and in conjunction with his forehead bespeaks 
the man, — firm yet modest, positive yet ingenuous. 

When in a state of repose his countenance is prepos- 
sessing ; but when he speaks his gestures are rhetoric, 



308 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

his looks persuasion, his voice elofjuencc. In the glow' of 
animation he is commanding ; but in the moment of passion, 
when self-convinced, he is pure intelligence. Disdaining 
every by-road to conviction, he strips the cause of all 
extraneous circumstances, and places it on its own ])0si- 
tion, true to nature ; paints it visibly to the eye, and buries 
in oblivion every interfering particular. Both judge and 
jury are prostrate in chains. It is the contention of prin- 
ciple ; no matter whose or what the interest, or if heaven 
were concerned, it is still the contention of principle. Of 
all causes which could arise, the present seems to involve 
the deepest consequences. There is no distinction now be- 
tween the great and the little ; everything but the point in 
question is forgotten, — Erskine and his cause are sovereign 
over all. Now flows the fountain of justice, now the re- 
cesses of iniquity are explored, now the deep foundations 
of fraud arc broken up. His eloquence becomes a torrent 
which sweeps away every defence which art or subterfuge 
had raised. No longer has the law a single hard feature, 
no perplexities, no uncertainties, no idle evasions ! Satur- 
nian Jove descends with his equal scales, cunning retires 
in shame, oppression lets go its victim, and innocence is 
seated on the throne of equity. At length, by degrees 
Erskine himself is forgotten, and forgets himself ; he rises 
to an effort not his own, and sinks under superior feelings, 
while the judge and the jury already convinced even to 
enthusiasm, impatiently withhold the verdict. 

sacred tribunal ! guarded in the spotless ermine of 
justice. hallowed walls ! where party spirit never 
enters, where the oppressed breathe an ethereal element. 
glorious institution ! which chains the passions of men, 
and checks the exactions of self-interest ! venerable 
judges ! whose sacred office knows no bias, whose sym- 
pathy is never wakened but in th(^ cause of humanity. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 309 

I know not with whom of the orators of antiquity to 
compare Erskine. He possesses neither the voice, nerve, 
nor vehemence of Demosthenes, but he has more, cor- 
diality. The audience of Demosthenes is driven, you see 
the goad ; that of Erskine follows its leader. While the 
one shows both of his hands clinched, you see the arms of 
the other extended. Demosthenes stamps with his feet, 
Erskine folds his arms ; while the one assumes a look of 
defiance, the other pauses a moment with open eyes. Ers- 
kine has all the grace and elegance of Tully, and, like 
Tully, is anxious to round all the angular points of his 
cause in a qualifying exordium. He has less art, is more 
rapid, more earnest, more original than Tully ; and if the 
periods of the Roman are more majestic than those of 
Erskine, it is the fault of the English language. Erskine 
has not TuUy's reach of learning, tliough I suspect that in 
case of a surprise Erskine's readiness would extricate him, 
while the Roman would sink under the weight of his own 
erudition. Erskine has not the confidence nor the gran- 
deur of Pericles, but he attaches you more quickly. 
Pericles is willing to impose on you ; Erskine's first con- 
cern is to make friends. While Pericles is throwing the 
gauntlet, Erskine is on the defensive, watching the 
moment of doubt or indifference. The one stands erect, 
imperative, and will take nothing which he cannot extort ; 
the other is submissive, inclines forward, and appeals to 
impartial justice. 

Erskine will suffer nothing on being examined as a man ; 
his profession has not defaced his original features of 
greatness. When engaged in a weak or unjust cause, he 
never sacrifices his hardihood of honor to the views of his 
client. He says all that ought to be said ; yet he never 
compromises his dignity by urging a corrupt principle. 
You see nothing of the attorney ; Erskine is a counsellor. 



310 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

You sec no attempt to take petty advantages ; Erskine is a 
gentleman. 

By turns he is serious or witty, and wlien the occasion 
offers and he is disposed to descend, like Roscius, he can 
turn off a case by pantomime. Among the thousand 
actions which are presented to him, some on trial appear 
to have originated in mirth, and others in imi)udence ; this 
Proteus is ready in a moment to throw off the professional 
buskin and tread the sock. 

I have followed Erskine to the House of Commons, 
forming to my mind the attitude of a man treading em- 
pires under his feet, and holding in his hands the destinies 
of the world. If, in a petty court of law, he could move 
heaven in behalf of a poor orphan or an oppressed widow, 
surely in presence of the British Parliament, when the 
fate of nations is depending, the front of opposition must 
cower beneath his frown, or follow in the wake of his 
triumphant progress. But the moment he enters Parlia- 
ment he disappears. He is only one among five hundred. 
An Arab would never kill Erskine, unless he caught the 
counsellor in his gown, band, and wig;^ with these he 
seems to put off his whole virtue. As a statesman, Erskine 
is nothing. I do not say he is a great man in a little room; 
but when he is addressing twelve men in a court of law, 
and when in the British Parliament he is addressing the 
speaker in behalf of the nation, he is not the same man. 
He begins, indeed, on a broad foundation, but he ascends 
like a ])yraraid, and either j)roduccs an abortion or attains 
to a point, and terminates where he should have begun. 
In Parliament he shows nothing of that copious precision, 
that ascending order, that captivating fluency, that earnest 
conviction which at the bar stamj) him Erskine. In Par- 

1 Wliin iu court, tbo English lawyers are dressed iii a black gowu, a baud, 
and a tie wig. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 311 

liament he labors with a harrow through the impediments 
of politics ; now it catches hold of Pitt, then it interferes 
with a straggling limb of Hawkesbury, now it tears away 
the skirts of Addington, presently it is to be lifted over 
the body of Windham. He concludes, and the impression 
which he had made is quickly effaced. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXVII. 

London, August 28. 

The person of Gibbs is diminutive, his appearance con- 
temptible ; he has not a single strong mark of character, 
except a sagacious eye. There is nothing engaging in his 
looks ; he repels rather than attracts, but all his defects 
are forgotten the moment he begins to speak. Doubtless 
Gibbs is the greatest lawyer in England. In a common 
case he is inferior to Erskine and Garrow ; but in a cause 
which involves first principles, where there is no room for 
the trappings of eloquence, where passion is vain, where 
digression w^eakens, where em])ellishment begets suspicion, 
he commands admiration, pens up Erskine in a corner, and 
not infrequently makes him stammer. 

In addressing a jury Gibbs is second, but second only 
to Erskine and Garrow. He neither understands human 
nature so well as they do, nor can he sift character, nor 
can he insinuate himself and take advantage of a fortunate 
moment. He has no conception of the extremes of virtue 
and vice ; he measures everything with his compasses, but 
he is sure of his dimensions. You make it merely a case 
of conscience to agree with him, yet he never lets you go 
until he has secured you, though he never thanks you for 



312 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

a verdict, well knowing you would not liavc given it had 
he not compelled you. Sometimes, though rarely, he at- 
tains to eloquence not interior to Erskine's, and then he 
is sure of his cause, for what can resist the arguments of 
Gibbs, backed with the eloquence of Erskine ? Yet his 
eloquence is not of the expansive order, because it is not 
the eloquence of the heart, but that of the head. He can- 
not look all the jury in the face at the same moment ; he 
does not regard the jury as one man ; he feels as though 
he had twelve persons to convince, — in this respect differ- 
ing from Erskine, who addresses the whole twelve, and 
persuades each individual that he is solicitous to convince 
him in particular. 

Gibbs knows that human nature varies in different men ; 
Erskine fiuds the tie of connection which governs the 
whole. While the one is laboring his point, the other has 
already touched you with his wand. Like his countrymen, 
Gibbs effects by main force all that he does effect. Erskine 
and Garrow are exulting on the top of the fortification, 
while Gibbs is mining the foundation; and before Gibbs 
enters the city it is already sacked. 

1 have spoken of these great men as addressing a jury ; 
in addressing the judges, before whom nothing but law and 
argument can avail or will be heard, before whom the most 
eloquent might as well speak in the dark, Gibbs rises pre- 
eminent. He assumes nothing, yet his very deportment 
bespeaks a man sure of himself, who has sounded his posi- 
tion and is able to grasp the whole common law of England. 
When Gibbs addresses the judges, Garrow is out of court, 
or sits with his calimanco bag tied up, and Erskine, his 
antagonist, fearful of a surprise, is as anxious and as busy 
as a general on the field of battle. 

The deeper the case, the more perplexed, the more orig- 
inal and involved in law learning, the more firm is Gibbs 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 313 

in his position ; he is secure in himself and less cautious of 
his competitor. He rises with a solemnity and moderation 
which impress every one. His voice is strong and his utter- 
ance is slow and well articulated, perfectly suited to a man 
"who in pursuit of the light of reason is willing that every 
word should be judged by the rules of precision. Without 
the appearance of arrangement he has all the elegance of 
method. He is luminous ; you see his path through the 
"wilderness of the law, while in his rear follows a stream of 
connected discourse and reasoning. Thus securing all the 
interest of historical order and logical process, he gradually 
convinces until he challenges all he demanded. 

The gestures of Gibbs are moderate, his countenance is 
never impassioned ; unlike Erskine, he is never agitated. 
He uses but one arm, and that never in a waving line ; 
his person is scarcely big enough to wield the weight of 
his mind. He uses little illustration, depending on his 
last argument to illustrate the former. He never conde- 
scends to be witty, despises embellishment, would trample 
on all the flowers of rhetoric, displays no learning foreign 
to the case, and indulges in no sally, except a strong and 
overwhelming irony, correspondent with the strength of his 
reasoning. 

In these moments Erskine's self retires before him like 
the shadow which you have sometimes seen in a cloudy day 
retreating over the hills before the invading presence of the 
sun. But in his turn Erskine rallies himself, and easily 
persuades all that, except in that particular case, he is su- 
perior to Gibbs, and though vanquished, is prepared for 
another combat. 

Doubtless the judges, as judges, have most reverence for 
Gibbs ; it is evident they look up to him with veneration, 
and are disposed to suspect their own judgment rather 
than his. This man, a plebeian, is a candidate for noth- 



314 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

ing ; while Erskinc, the son of an Earl, is a candidate for 
the Lord High Chancellorship. I do not say this in disre- 
pcct to Erskinc, who honors England more than England 
can ever honor him. Adieu. 



LETTER XXXVIIL 

London, September 5. 

Garrow is not a lawyer, nor in the full sense of the 
word, is he an orator ; yet as an orator he is not less extra- 
ordinary than Erskine or Gibbs. His person is respectable, 
rather rawboned ; his face is square and flat ; his complexion 
a dry, brown red ; his forehead is high, and appears higher 
through a total defect of eyebrows ; his chin is triangular 
and a little prominent. 

If I have been correctly informed, the history of Garrow 
is singular. He is the son of a country clergyman, and in 
his childhood was considered a dead weight on society. 
Until the age of thirteen he was a cow-boy ; and liis intel- 
lect promised nothing. About that period, his father sent 
him, at a venture, to London. What occupation he fol- 
lowed I know not ; but he found his way at length to 
the evening debating societies, where he soon showed a 
wonderful readiness in reply, and a copious flow of origi- 
nal matter, all the more remarkable in view of his lack of 
education. 

I suspect that Garrow entered on the study of the law 
under unfavorable circumstances, for he began at tlie Old 
Bailey. Hence if human nature wore but one aspect, Gar- 
row would naturally paint it black. If they have ability, 
most men in the profession of law attain eminence by 
degrees. A lawyer never appears full grown at once, like 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 315 

an air-balloon or a newly created lord. He is obliged to 
arrive at certainty through the labyrinths of uncertainty. 
Although Garrow became famous as soon as he showed 
himself, yet his celebrity did not depend on his acquisitions. 

As counsellor for felons ^ at the Old Bailey, Garrow was 
necessarily a spectator of human depravity from its first 
moment of lax principle to the last degree of abandoned 
practice. The code of criminal law in this country is so 
disproportioned, so barbarous, so unnatural, that Garrow 
might frequently deem it a matter of principle to save 
the accused. Hence the more desperate the situation of 
the prisoner, the more severely would Garrow tax his 
own ingenuity. 

I will give you two instances, the latter of which I heard 
Garrow relate in the King's Bench. The first occurred in 
a criminal action, the other in a civil. 

Some years ago, a servant was indicted for robbing his 
master. The penalty in this case is death, and in general 
justice is inexorable. The prisoner had no hope except in 
Garrow. He had robbed his master of several guineas ; 
they were all found on his person, and, to render his 
case desperate, they had been marked, and the master 
was ready to attest their identity. Garrow asked the 
prisoner if he could mark another guinea in a similar 
manner. The prisoner marked one, and Garrow told him 
he might begin to repent, for his acquittal could not 
be assured. 

On the day of trial, just before the master of the accused 
was about to swear to the guineas, Garrow desired to 
look at them, and cautioning the witness not to swear to 
money, as it was so frequently marked, requested the spec- 

1 I have already stated, that a felon is not allowed counsel to address the 
jury in his behalf ; but he is allowed counsel to cross-examine the witnesses, 
and to take every possible advantage which may offer. 



316 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

tators if they had any guineas in tiicir pockets, to lend 
them to him. In a moment he had a handful, — it was 
so contrived. lie shufTlcd them together, and presenting 
them to the witness desired him to select his own. The 
witness hesitated, and being pressed by Garrow, did not 
venture to identify. The prisoner was acquitted. It ap- 
peared afterward that Garrow in presenting the handful of 
guineas had withholden those which had been stolen. 

The other instance was of late occurrence. A will sus- 
pected to be a forgery was set up. One of the subscrib- 
ing witnesses, in giving his evidence, stated that an 
English shilling Avas placed under the seal. The judge 
called for the will, broke the seal, and found the shilling. 
In Garrow's opinion this was not conclusive ; he desired 
to look at the shilling. Fortunately, it was not worn 
so smooth but that the date might be discerned ; by 
which it appeared that the shilling was coined long after 
the will purported to have been made. 

"While practising at the Old Bailey, Garrow was an im- 
pediment to justice. The only remedy was to make him 
a king's counsellor. This at once placed him in the King's 
Bench, beside Erskine, Gibbs, Dallas, and Park. The saga- 
city which distinguished him in criminal cases, followed 
him to the more ample field of litigation. There, amidst 
the intricacies of self-interest, fraud, and cunning, he di- 
vests the cause of every assumed color, or as readily ex- 
tricates suffering innocence from the fangs of the op- 
pressor. His wonderful knowledge of human nature is 
only equalled by his facility of entering into the feelings, 
views, and conduct of mankind under all circumstances. 
He is a perfect master of the theory of the proba])ilities of 
human conduct, while the variety of causes at the Guild- 
hall gives him a view as extensive and as broad as the re- 
lations of society. He is a metaphysician, and what is 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 317 

more, knows how to reduce his metaphysics to common 
sense and to the purposes of common life. No casuist 
could enter more sagaciously into the theory of the will, 
motive, and the degree of necessity ; no other could so 
palpably distinguish between the necessary, the indifferent, 
and the perverse of human action. 

Garrow's chief excellence consists in impressing on the 
jury a full and distinct apprehension of the merits of the 
case. It is the fault of some great lawyers to enter too 
deeply into their causes ; they injure them by attempt- 
ing to give them a false importance before the jury. Gar- 
row, on the contrary, comprehends with a glance just how 
much the case will bear, and to what length he may pre- 
sume on the jury ; then, after a clear and precise opening 
of the cause, in which is contained the real outlines 
which he knows his evidence will support, he rises in 
a moment to the middle style of eloquence, and with a 
fluency surpassing Erskine's, turns his back on the judge, 
and worms himself into the common sense of the jury, 
with whom he never hazards a dubious point by urging it 
beyond the fair bounds of plausibility. Here he takes his 
stand ; by resting his case on the jury's own competency, 
he pays them deference, and engages their self-love, while 
without any considerable effort on their part, they fol- 
low him at their ease. Never does he, like Gibbs and 
Erskine, address himself partly to the judge and partly to 
the jury ; but forgetful of all the solemnities of his pro- 
fession, he seems to leap over the bar into the midst 
of the jury, his fellows. With him, a sagacious pointer, 
at their head, they are ready to follow from White Chapel 
to Hyde Park. 

Nothing great, no sublime apostrophes, no appeal to 
the passions, no distracting digressions, no learning, not 
even law learning, trouble the pure stream of Garrow's 



318 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

eloquence. "With extraordinary rapidity he touches on all 
the important points, tlirowint^ out with one hand whatever 
is immaterial, and establishing with the other whatever is 
substantial, thus laying the marrow of the cause before 
the jury ; and lest the cause should be obscured with cir- 
cumlocution, when he has said all that they can bear, he 
ends in apparent exhaustion. 

Garrow attaches more surely than Erskine himself. 
The latter sometimes strains the feelings too high ; amidst 
a world of matter, he is in danger of losing sight of the 
question. Garrow never yet w^antoned to the prejudice of 
his client. He never ascends like the eagle to the sun, but 
he never stops his pursuit in order to chase butterflies. 
Though his style of speaking and tone of voice are always 
the same, yet his penetration is so subtle and his conclu- 
sions so natural that he succeeds in convincing the jury he 
is only elucidating their own sentiments. Thus whatever 
he gains instantly becomes a part of the verdict, no 
matter whether the verdict be right or wrong, — that is the 
judge's concern, not his. 

Doubtless Garrow is the first man at the bar, when the 
action is involved in dry matter of fact : for then, fearless 
of being put down by law authorities, he can give full 
play to his own ingenuity ; and as no man ever had more 
producible common sense, no man was ever so capable of 
applying it well. No man ever had a clearer mind, which, 
though not deep, embraces the extremes of sagacity, fore- 
sight, and probability- He is like the beds of those rivers, 
of which, though you can see to the bottom, you see noth- 
ing but golden sands. 

To distinguish between Gibbs, Garrow, and Erskine, I 
should say Gibbs is a man of a powerful mind, Garrow 
an extraordinary man, and Erskine a man of genius. To 
compare them with our New England lawyers, 1 should 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 319 

say Dexter was the most like Gibbs, Otis most like Garrow, 
and Erskine — I know not with whom to compare him; 
he is a partial assemblage of all the others. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXIX. 

London, September 15. 

On the subject of the English orators I should prefer 
to be silent, ratlier than to confine myself within the 
bounds of a letter. However, I will attempt a sketch of 
the principal speakers. 

From the predominant class of contending men in the 
House of Commons, I might select Pitt, Fox, Windham, 
Sheridan, Wilberforce, Grey, Tierney, Castlereagh, Hawkes- 
bury, Corry, and Addington. 

The characters of these men, as orators, are well known 
in the United States, and particularly so to you. I shall, 
therefore, confine myself to the first three, — Pitt, Fox, and 
Windham. Sheridan 1 would have included, but I have 
heard him speak only twice, and then he left no impres- 
sion. He has taken no part in any important debate 
which I have attended, but has kept his seat, — silent, 
reserved, looking earnestly toward the treasury bench, 
and seemingly dubious of his former principles, which 
have left him as poor as his old client the Nabob of 
Arcot. 

Mr. Pitt still rises with an ease, composure, and assur- 
ance, indicative of former influence, while the House, con- 
scious of his presence, are disposed to give him all that 
attention as a member which he once commanded as a 
minister. And though at present he is a fallen states- 



320 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

man, he sustains a character none the less ascendant as 
a man ; so that his enemies arc not willing to approach 
niglier plain Mr. Pitt than they did the once arbiter of 
the kingdom. 

The station which Mr. Pitt has supported so long has 
given his eloquence a peculiar turn, and even rendered his 
character ostensibly cold and hard. The political calcu- 
lator, always in search of expedients, habitually regards 
mankind mechanically, and sooner or later becomes impen- 
etrable to the first dictates of nature, and sublimely over- 
looks every obstacle which might imjwdc his course. A 
prime minister of Great Britain, if he continues long in 
office, must of necessity familiarize himself with deeds 
which in their extensive consequences render all the crimes 
of the decalogue comparatively harmless. In fact, Mr. Pitt's 
eloquence shows a frigid, palliating, defensive, yet positive 
character. It has ever been sufficient for him to maintain 
his ground : not to be driven from his post has been to 
gain the victory. At this day, he addresses the Speaker as 
though the conflict were still between himself and his great 
antagonist. Fox, while Addington is forgotten, and forgets 
that he is minister. 

Had Mr. Pitt labored all his days in the o]iposition, he 
would have been a much greater orator and a much nobler 
man. Ever on the defensive, he has naturally fallen into 
a confined uniformity, which has seldom permitted him to 
take excursion beyond the tedious business of office ; at the 
same time the system of government, forcing the current 
of business to mingle itself with the sighs, tears, and groans 
of the nation, has rendered him officially obnoxious to the 
people, and afforded his parliamentary enemies the fairest 
provocations for attack. Once, indeed, Mr. Pitt found 
himself on the side of humanity, and shone conspicuously 
among Fox, Burke, Wilberforcc, and others. But, singular 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 321 

as it may appear, he then, and then only, found himself in 
a minority. I speak of the famous motion of Wilberforce 
for the abolition of the slave trade. 

Under these circumstances, the members of the opposi- 
tion have every advantage, not only of popular respect, but 
of humanity, and consequently of oratory ; for true elo- 
quence must be founded on the honest feelings of nature. 
But a prime minister has already closed every pore to the 
glow of humanity, before he ventures to open the budget.^ 
Hence he is cut off from the most fruitful source of elo- 
quence. No appeal to the passions, no earnest supplica- 
tion, no sympathy with distress, no palpitation of the heart, 
render him dear to the people and soften his exactions. 
Impelled by inexorable necessity, he comes into the House, 
and knowing the final result of the question, boldly exposes 
himself to the whole artillery of the opposition. But all 
this confidence in his followers does not suffer him to re- 
mit the severest exercise of his own powers in order to 
give plausibility to his most suspicious measures. Hence 
it may easily be imagined that before any important 
step is taken, the treasury bench have already been sum- 
moned to weigh every difficulty which the opposition might 
possibly raise. Thus such men as Fox, Sheridan, and Grey 
have the honor of being answered twice. But Fox is so 
various, rapid, and overwhelming, that he frequently loses 
the whole ministry, who, long since ripe for the question, 
are happy to be released by the last resort of the minister, 
— I mean the vote of the majority. 

From these observations you will easily collect what the 
style of Pitt and of Fox will probably be ; still, each of 
them preserves a distinct character. 

1 " Budget : " a political cant word for the yearly estimate of expenses. 
I saw Mr. Addington open one of his budgets, and I imagined I heard the 
groans of a hundred million people. 

21 



322 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Mr. Pitt is the most cool, perspicacious, dignified, and flu- 
ent speaker who ever rose in a deliberative assembly. The 
moment he is expected, a solemn stillness pervades the 
House ; and while his presence is felt, his adversaries lose 
all their influence. His manner is gentle and unassuming ; 
his gestures, moderate and conciliatory ; his voice, musical, 
clear, and distinct ; his words, most hapi)ily selected with- 
out the least appearance of selection, flow in an unruffled, 
uniform stream, always sufficiently rapid to interest, and 
frequently to command attention. With these advantages, 
he opens upon the House a mind veteran in politics and as 
extensive as the various relations of the empire. Nor is he 
deficient in illustrations drawn from modern science, or in 
embellisliments derived from ancient literature ; but he uses 
both illustrations and embellishments sparingly. With a 
mind thus adorned by nature, thus disciplined by art, and 
habitually cool and determined, no wonder he displays on 
all occasions a reach far beyond the attainment of ordinary 
men. While the fallen statesman is yet willing to hazard 
his former immense responsibility, he still seems to support 
a mighty kingdom, nor does he sink under the weight. 
Doubtless no member of the House of Commons could sujv 
port such a weight of character unless his pre-eminent abili- 
ties had first given him the necessary strength, and then 
that weight of character had seconded his abilities. 

His chief excellence consists in inspiring a full confi- 
dence in his own capacity ; then he places you at a due 
distance, perfectly at your ease, and whether he is right 
or wrong you are loath to interrujit the copious stream of 
his clocpicncc, which flows with such a felicity of connec- 
tion and concludes with such an elegant compactness, that 
you fancy you have been listening to an oracle, whose 
words dictated in the harmony of numbers carry a divine 
influence. No breaks, no exclamations, no agitation, no 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 323 

violence of expression mark his course, ruffle his temper, 
or disturb the spelh Never does he astonish, like the 
column of Niagara, by his headlong torrent, falling, spark- 
ling, and spreading wide its foam, — he preserves his nat- 
ural and deep channel. He fixes you, it is true, and you 
are satisfied while under the power of his words ; but the 
moment he concludes the impression is gone, and you are 
ready to dispute him. The reason is, Pitt's eloquence is 
the eloquence of the head, and not the eloquence of the 
heart. He is as cold as the polar regions, and as dry as 
the deserts of Arabia. He is afraid to tempt his feelings, 
lest his heart should betray his head. Hence he is spar- 
ing of ornament, suspicious of moral digression, and fear- 
ful of an appeal to the passions. 

Destitute, at present, of the pioneers of the treasury 
bench, Pitt stands self-supported, and seems to plant him- 
self in a narrow defile, prepared to oppose all who may 
come that way. Although he sees his adversaries from 
afar — some, like Fox, approaching directly, others scour- 
ing along the declivities, and a few subaltern partisans 
who retreat the moment their heads are discovered above 
the hills — he maintains his ground, notwithstanding his 
accustomed armor renders him incapable of varying his 
weapons, while his mechanical movements forbid him to 
pursue the enemy. 

Fox appears in the House of Commons under the most 
favorable impressions which an ambitious orator can de- 
sire. He commands the awe if not the admiration of the 
Ministry, steals into the affections of the indifferent, and 
carries with him the enthusiasm of his friends. How can 
it be otherwise? His heart is full and laboring before 
he rises. Consistent from the beginning, his sincerity is 
never doubted, and thus he is always in possession of the 
foreground ; and though he frequently breaks out in sud- 



324 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

(Icii abruptness, the beginning of his last speech always 
seems the conclusion of the preceding. His whole political 
life has been one continued flow of eloquence, — here only 
a narrow stream, and there scarcely liuwing at all, but on 
every great occasion collecting itself like a torrent and 
rushing in a wide and lengthened volume ; now breaking 
over rocks and precipices, and now making its own channel 
through the mounds which his busy competitors had lal)0- 
riously reared, sweeping all away, and not infrequently 
overwhelming his enemies, and leaving their dead bodies 
floating far behind. 

In vain will a king of Great Britain draw a line over the 
name of such a man as Fox. If no longer privy counsellor, 
he is counsellor of the nation. It is impossible to oppress 
or humble such a man. Wherever he treads, he must 
leave an indelible impression ; wliatever he docs, becomes 
a part of his country's history ; and whatever he says, must 
descend to posterity. 

Though Fox is slovenly in appearance, unwieldy in per- 
son, and ungracious in manners, though his voice is dis- 
agreeably shrill, his words frequently indistinct, and his 
action generally embarrassed, yet he has scarcely begun be- 
fore you are solicitous to approach nearer to the man. In 
the midst of passion, which sometimes agitates him until he 
pants high, he displays so much gentleness of temper and 
so little personal feeling that a stranger might easily imag- 
ine he saw this man among the gods, unencumbered with 
any mortal affection, debating for the good of mankind. So 
much pure principle, natural sagacity, strong argument, 
noble feeling, adorned with the choicest festoons of ancient 
and modern literature, and all these issuing from a source 
hitherto inexhaustible, never before so distinguished a 
man. If nations were not suffered to go mad before they 
are destroyed, the voice of Fox, raising itself in the midst 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 325 

of corruption, false politics, and the abuses of a full 
century, would yet be heard. 

With these advantages of consistency, of integrity, of 
political sagacity, of irresistible and lengthened argument, 
no wonder if while he never condescends to personality, all 
those over whom the influence of corruption has passed 
seem to shrink under his presence. They have nothing to 
fear. Fox never descends from the summit of his reputa- 
tion. He knows that he has long been a spectacle to his 
own countrymen and to neighboring nations, and, as if 
standing in the presence of all Europe, he seems to hold 
in his hand the record of his past life, while his eye pierces 
down to posterity, in pledge of his future constancy to his 
avowed principles. 

Pitt you are willing to hear until he is exhausted. But 
Fox first lays down an interesting position, fixes your earn- 
est regard, and attaches you wholly to himself ; then by the 
rapidity of his utterance hurries you on, not to immediate 
conviction, for he is sure the minds of all are pressing 
forward. Fearless of presuming on the patience of his 
hearers, he is enabled to give free play to his feelings, to 
his genius, to his learning, — all which united give an irre- 
sistible force to his arguments, and would confound all 
distinction between his friends and enemies, did not Pitt, 
the sole support of his party at these moments, breaking 
in upon the calm and silence of the solemn impression, 
recall to a new conflict the wavering majority. 

In one respect, Fox will forever be esteemed above his 
contemporaries. Though he has grown gray in the opposi- 
tion, he has never made one personal enemy. At the end 
of a twenty year's contention, he is still considered a man 
of a noble disposition ; and both in the moment of debate 
and with the nation at large, he. still maintains the influ- 
ence of his former days. 



326 LETTERS FROM LONDON. 

Mr. Windham is not an orator of that commanding pres- 
ence which fixes confidence or attaches a party. Though 
hardly an orator, lie is one of the most successful parti- 
sans who. ever entered on the warfare of debate. Ilis grace- 
ful person, his serious air, his bald head, joined to his de- 
liberate, distinct utterance, give him at once a senatorial 
dignity independent of his various intellectual forces. 

I have seen Mr. Windham out of place only ; I have seen 
him in pursuit of Mr. Addington. How he would appear 
on the treasury bench, I can only imagine. In his pres- 
ent scat he shows nothing but his talons ; and with all the 
unfeeling instinct of the bird of prey, he fixes on the neck 
of the minister, who, unlike Pitt, is vulnerable at every 
point, and daily bleeds afresh. 

Nothing great, nothing manly, nothing conciliatory mark 
the course of Windham ; whether ho rises in meditated or 
instantaneous assault, he points out at once the object of 
his destruction. No disguise : the man cannot hide his fea- 
tures ; it is forever the same inveterate spirit. " Idem hab- 
itus oris, eadem contumacia in vultu, idem in orationc spir- 
itus erat." ^ Passing by the plausible Hawkesbury, the 
laborious York, and the elegant Castlereagh, auxiliaries of 
the minister, Windham never suffers one of his arrows to 
miss the heart of Addington. lie is as terrible to his 
enemy as those enormous serpents which carry with them 
threefold terror, — whose fangs are not less fatal than the 
squeeze of their bodies, nor this less fatal than the lash 
of their tails. His instant, downright attack precludes all 
escape ; while his close logic, lengthened out by the wind- 
ing subtlety of metaphysical reasoning, leaves his enemy 
bound hand and foot. Not satisfied with this, and himself 
not half exhausted, he collects all his sarcastic powers, 
and begins a new onset, the most ferocious of the muses 

1 Livy, ii. 61. 



LETTERS FROM LONDON. 327 

waiting his pleasure, and opening all the stores of ridi- 
cule, jest, and satire. 

No wonder the Chancellor is chafed, no wonder he frets 
in his seat ; his ministerial dignity suffers under the daily 
ridicule, while his self-love is touched to the quick under 
the ever new contempt of Windham, for no man ever pos- 
sessed a more insidious, villifying talent at reproach, which 
can neither be warded off nor retorted. It is not a single 
taunt, and then a respite ; it is not a passing sneer which 
is presently forgotten, but the ceaseless assault of the 
fabled vulture. 

Though Windham possesses a fine imagination, a strong 
current of argument, and a various and extensive reach of 
mind, adorned with the best portions of classic literature, 
— add to these a fluency second only to Pitt's — yet the 
ultimate requisite for a great orator is wanting, — I mean 
passion, of which Windham is wholly destitute. He is 
not deficient in violence ; but he shows at once a cold 
heart and a passionate head, so that you follow him in- 
differently. Before you can feel with Windham, you must 
first hate the man whom he attacks. 

However, Windham generally brings to the debate some- 
thing new, something dazzling, something original ; and 
when he does not add anything of his own, he displays the 
question in its best possible position. Always perspicacious 
and elegant, his words seem to flow from the press already 
arranged, and exhibiting the fairest impression. In short, 
Windham is one of the most interesting speakers in the 
House ; and if he could suppress the black bile which con- 
tinually flows from his mouth, if he could conceal his 
bitterness, he would add new weight to his character, 
would lose nothing of his senatorial dignity, and would 
be the delight of the House of Commons. 

Adieu. 



THE 

HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The following Essay, I am sensible, is but a sketch. If 
it have merit, it will be attributed to the design rather 
than to the execution. The subject is worthy the hand 
of a master, and is still open to much philosophical re- 
search. I have endeavored to explore a new but indirect 
source of argument in favor of the divinity of Jesus 
Christ. For my support, I have relied on human nature, 
and strengthened my proofs by illustration and parallel, 
so far as illustration and parallel could be applicable to 
the character. I thought it possible to render the subject 
interesting to piety. Let the public judge. 



THE 

HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST.^ 



EVERY age has produced heroes, enthusiasts, and im- 
postors. To rise pre-eminent over others is the 
first wish of the human heart. After man ceases to be 
wholly selfish, the predominant sensation expands itself 
in comparison, which gradually awakens the ardor of 
ambition. This restless feeling has a governing influence 
on man in early life, and never entirely forsakes him until 
he loses all confidence in himself. If the nature be gen- 
erous and events propitious, they produce a great man ; 
otherwise the disposition takes an eccentric turn. 

It is not a singular circumstance in the annals of human 
nature that every one of those heroes, enthusiasts, and im- 
postors, the history of whose lives has been sufficiently 
interesting to merit preservation, has been actuated by his 
particular bias, and excited by motives which in his own 
estimation were powerful, however weak or criminal they 
were in the opinion of mankind. One man, already a con- 
queror, thinks he must subject the world before the world 
will acknowledge him a hero. Another, already a sover- 
eign prince and perfectly at ease, proposes more than 
mortal labors in order to enjoy a quiet old age. A third, 
favored by the times, boldly associates himself with heaven 
in order to govern the earth. A fourth, more humble 
though not less ardent, clad in a hair shirt, is willing to 
travel to Jerusalem, preaching a crusade. 

1 First printed in 1807, for William Pelham, Boston. 



332 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

The characters of these men were so distinctly marked 
in their own days, their inspiring motive was so apparent, 
that succeeding ages have hecn contented to apjjcal to 
them i'or illustration, or to raise commentaries on their 
lives. Doubtless they all thought themselves paramount 
to the common sense of mankind, and little less than 
inspired, however romantic or absurd their object of pur- 
suit. Hence the questions of magnanimity or of selfish- 
ness, of imposture or of enthusiasm, will forever arise 
while the pursuits of men tend to pre-eminence over their 
contemporaries. 

There is one person on record who has commanded the 
attention of every succeeding age ; and, what is not a 
little remarkable, it is not yet settled in what class of 
character this person ought to be placed, notwithstanding 
he has engaged the zeal, the curiosity, or the resentment 
of the divine, the philosopher, and the statesman. He was 
a person whose singular fate it has been to be accred- 
ited by some whose lives reflected no honor on the object 
of their adoration, and to be reviled by others whose moral 
worth was never questioned. How, then, are we to esti- 
mate a man whom many worship as a god, whom some 
consider an enthusiast, and whom not a few revile as an 
impostor ? 

If the characters of all eminent men have been drawn 
and judged from their lives and actions, why may not 
we, confining ourselves to the human character of Jesus 
Christ, reach the merits of the question by testing his 
life and actions by the general principles of human nature, 
or at least by those principles which usually influence 
great men ? 

In the reign of Augustus Caesar, and at a period famous 
in the history of that time for an universal peace, an 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 333 

infant, now universally known by the name of Jesus 
Christ, was born at Bethlehem, a village of Galilee, a 
Roman province. His parents, no doubt, moved in the 
humblest walks of society, and during their whole lives, 
notwithstanding the reputation of their son, remained in 
obscurity. Their poverty and humility may readily be 
supposed ; for the child was born in a manger, a cir- 
cumstance which probably would not have been recorded 
if family pride had been studious to conceal it, — unless, 
like the story of Romulus and Remus, it was designed to 
be the groundwork of a romantic tale ; or, as the child 
appeared to be promising, to make his humble origin en- 
hance his personal merit. But as no such uses as these 
were ever made of his remarkable birth, it seems rea- 
sonable to conclude that this was a well-known part of 
their family history. 

The education of a boy thus situated is generally con- 
tracted and consistent with the narrow means of his parents. 
Hence the adventures of Christ's childhood are singularly 
barren of incident. Until the age of twelve years, it does 
not appear whether he was grave or gay, ardent or reserved. 
There is no mention of even one brilliant observation of 
his sedate, nor one effusion of his more heedless, moments 
which can be regarded as prophetic of his future character. 
The cause of this is open to two remarks, both plausible, 
though offering different conclusions. It may be said he 
was just like other children, and showed nothing worthy 
of particular notice. On the contrary, it may be replied, 
that a more early revelation of himself might have dero- 
gated from the dignity and importance of his purposes. 
A boy-God could not so easily have supported a great mis- 
sion. But neither of these remarks has much weight ; for 
it seems he did exhibit himself to the world in early child- 
hood, and then commanded the attention of the public. 



334 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

If the first wish of an obscure, inconsequential, but 
aspiring young man should lead liira to associate with 
the world, and to solicit public notice, it is nothing un- 
common. Obscurity connected with ambition usually in- 
spires the boldest confidence ; but it rarely happens that 
a boy of real genius obtrudes himself on the busy world. 
In the first moments of conscious, superior worth, the boy 
of genius undergoes sensations wholly averse to its public 
manifestation. He trembles in the glare of observation, 
and flies from the presence of those whose attention he 
is most anxious to arrest. This is natural ; the first open- 
ings of a great mind overcome the heart. A new and 
powerful sensation oppresses him ; he is jealous of otliers 
and doubtful of himself. 

At the age of twelve years, this boy found himself at 
Jerusalem. His parents had taken him with them to cele- 
brate an annual feast. To a child of common observation, 
the city of Jerusalem must have been a source of much 
surprise. How many questions and how many remarks 
such a journey must have raised in a young mind ! His 
soul must liave expanded in allusion and comparison. In 
the midst of such a scene as Jerusalem presented to youth- 
ful curiosity, every step would have awakened reflection. 
Yet strange, not a single observation on human life, on the 
city, or on the inhabitants appears to have escaped him, 
who was too young for an impostor, and too simple for a 
hypocrite. Stranger still, this ignorant boy, regardless of 
all the novelties of the city and truant to his parents (who 
had already left Jerusalem on their journey home), without 
any introduction, alone, and ])robably in mean apparel, 
proceeds to the Temple, the most famous jtlace in the city. 
There he finds the most learned men in the country dis- 
coursing on pul)lic afTairs. He seats himself in the midst 
of them, and of a sudden enters into the debate. By the 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 335 

singular pertinence and depth of his observations rather 
than by any artifice of eloquence, he draws on himself the 
attention of all. Soon they become astonished, and, drop- 
ping their own concerns, regard the child with mixed feel- 
ings of curiosity, awe, and wonder. 

One might imagine that this early and brilliant success in 
his first attempt to attract public admiration would have 
fixed the predominant character of the man. If the tremu- 
lous nerves of the Olympic victor were sometimes over- 
powered in supporting the laurel which his corporal 
strength had won, what must be the nature of him who 
in youth receives with equanimity the more cherished and 
flattering distinction which a powerful mind commands 
from the willing, perhaps the unwilling, voices of his con- 
temporaries ? Already, in imagination, the brightest 
scenes open upon his manhood. The obscurity of his 
family is forgotten. The trappings of honor will not 
only clothe himself, but conceal the meanness of his 
parents. Who will not follow him in the ardor of riper 
years whom they reverence in childhood ? 

We know nothing more of Jesus until he is thirty years 
of age. Of this blank in his life, during a period of eigh- 
teen years, every man must judge agreeably to his own 
feelings and views of human nature ; but it must be 
obvious to every one that this long obscurity is perhaps 
the most extraordinary circumstance of his life. How 
could a young man, conscious of talents, and contemptible 
in that age both on account of his parentage and place of 
nativity, sacrifice so long the laudable pride of raising his 
family, or, possessed of more expanded feelings, of honor- 
ing his native country ? Though age is slow and calcu- 
lating, youth is hasty and clamorous of the present. How 
could a youth, who at the age of twelve commanded the at- 
tention of sages, preserve a silence during so many years ? 



336 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Though prudence measures everything with her compasses, 
genius is more rapid. How could a young man like Jesus, 
whose nation was the reproach of the earth, bury himself 
in the obscurity of Nazareth for so long a period of that 
time when the passions are all alive, and when pleasure 
engrosses the current moment, or ambition lays plans for 
the future ? 

At about the age of thirty, Jesus appeared again in pub- 
lic. He was then in the ripeness of manhood, at a period 
equally distant from the levity of youth and the sobriety of 
age. He is reported to have been exceedingly beautiful in 
his person, if you examined but one feature at a time ; but 
his entire countenance raised in the beholder an interest 
which immediately affected the heart. Sympathy, awe, 
reverence, but chiefly reverence, were the prevailing senti- 
ments he inspired. These were the features of his character 
in the moment of repose. His stature was rather above 
the common size, as was his person, and that was finely 
proportioned. His hair was auburn, gracefully flowing 
over his shoulders ; his steps were slow and firm, bespeak- 
ing a man of purpose. The most brilliant complexion of 
health adorned his checks, which, in conjunction with his 
flowing beard — the fashion of those times — and a pierc- 
ing hazel, yet unassuming eye, would have rendered him 
altogether attractive, had not a high and gently retreating 
forehead of the most perfect symmetry restrained famili- 
arity, and impressed the beholder with an emotion of re- 
spect. Though he appeared under every disadvantage, 
under almost suspicious circumstances, it was impossible 
to behold him without being in doubt as to the true char- 
acter of the man. 

Such is said to have been the personal nj^pcarance of 
Jesus Christ. But who will undertake to portray the cast 
of mind of one who at every step of his public life ran 



THE HUMAN CHAEACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 337 

counter to the ordinary pursuits of common sense ? Yet 
his public movements and public counsels offer sufficiently 
distinct outlines from which to draw a character, not the 
less to be mistaken for its entire originality. 

Jesus Christ was endued not only with all those qualities 
of mind which are considered the attributes of command, 
and insure a superior standing among men, but he was still 
more noted for the milder virtues. These, though less 
splendid, are entitled to more merit, in that they are rarely 
associated with strongly marked characters, are subjects of 
attainment rather than gifts of Nature, and require a habit 
of circumspection to preserve, and a constant exercise to 
practise them ; but in Jesus the most opposite traits 
seem to blend s6 naturally that you are in danger of 
mistaking two virtues for a single one. His habitual 
meekness and undaunted firmness, his all-subduing wis- 
dom accompanied with a subtle sagacity, and his almost 
childlike simplicity, never for a moment proved a foil to 
one another. Perhaps no man ever possessed a more ready 
versatility. The lowly life in which he was educated, was 
not more familiar to him than the more ceremonious com- 
pany of the Scribes, the Pharisees, and the Doctors of Law. 
His easy conformity bespoke on all occasions a knowledge 
of human nature which seemed to be intuitive. No man 
ever approached him without being improved, or at least 
laid open to self-inspection ; while his habitual calmness 
and presence of mind gave him ascendency over the cap- 
tious, whom he put down not by the force of argument, 
but by a moral appeal to the heart, or by a happy illus- 
tration of the matter in question, or frequently by the 
method employed by Socrates, — by compelling the cap- 
tious questioner to confute himself. It is worthy of re- 
mark, also, that whatever this man spoke was addressed 
to the heart and not to the head ; hence he was always 

22 



338 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

irresistible, while tlic sinijilicity of his aj)})carancc and his 
unassuming manners gave his wisdom a novel and all- 
attracting charm. Unembarrassed with the doctrines of 
the day, unversed in the subtleties of the schools, contemn- 
ing the formal processes of logic, he made no claim to 
learning. Original in everything, he seemed superior to all 
his predecessors in fertility of mind. Doubtless owing to 
his lack of learning, the sciences of Greece or of Rome were 
never subjects of his appeal. Ilis own resources served 
him instead of the light from other men ; and if he was 
ever at a loss to explain himself or illustrate his subject, 
the nearest object generally afforded the most lively proof 
of his intuitive powers. The little child who happened to 
be present is as strong an example of the readiness with 
which he converted surrounding objects to his purposes 
as the more ingenious, though artificial parable. Possessed 
of such resources, where was the necessity of a display of 
learning, or to what profit could Jesus use the embellish- 
ments of rhetoric, when to enforce his doctrine a grain of 
mustard-seed was ready to spring to a full-grown tree, in 
whose branches all the fowls of the air might lodge ? His 
was not the eloquence of the Sophists. True eloquence 
must affect the heart ; if the heart be not affected, how- 
ever deeply engaged the head may be, it is no longer elo- 
quence, — it is argument. If Christ Avas not a finished 
orator by the rules of art, he was the first of orators by 
the force of nature. Suffice it for others to insinuate 
themselves, to watch the propitious turn of indifl'crence, 
and gain in an hour what they cannot command in a 
moment ; suffice it for others to beguile their hearers by 
the subtleties of the schools, by splendid figures, by ajit 
illustrations, by strong allusions. The orator, however suc- 
cessfully he may use these advantages, betrays only a bar- 
renness of mind compared with the powers of him who 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 339 

speaks only to the heart, and can at one effort convert his 
hearers into disciples. 

No doubt there was a peculiar and agreeable manner of 
address accompanying the discourses of Jesus. It cannot 
be supposed but that the graces of his person, — his ruddy 
complexion, still more spiritual in the moment of anima- 
tion, his piercing eyes, mild or commanding at pleasure, 
his fixed and ingenuous countenance, — added much to 
his success ; yet there certainly was an unknown, secret 
charm attending this man who was free from any affec- 
tation of applause. 

There was nothing popular in his manner ; he never 
seemed to make an effort. How, then, was he always so 
ascendant over his followers, or rather, how did he collect 
so many followers ? With the famous orators of that age 
and the preceding ages, graceful gestures, an animated 
eye, frequent violence of action, passionate invocations 
and appeals were the by-road to persuasion ; with Jesus 
expression rendered unnecessary any exertion of voice or 
of person. Expression in him was action, passion, man- 
ner, address, — everything. This was the mighty power, 
the unattainable power, which is said to have produced 
such strange effects, whether he rose upon the multitude 
in the terror of his wrath or addressed them in the tone 
of charity and compassion ; whether he overwhelmed the 
assuming Pharisee or raised the humble publican. It was 
this inconceivable, this mysterious expression which so 
much perplexed his hearers as to the nature of tlie person. 

Why, then, did not this man succeed in life ? " He was 
not ambitious." But was not his public appearance a suf- 
ficient proof of his ambition ? — for without ambition no 
man throws himself on the public. Why, then, did not this 
man succeed in life ? " He knew not how to embody the 
passions of men, and to point their direction." Yet this 



340 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

man. in a chance walk, in a first interview, could enlist two 
fishermen in his service, and fix them in his interest during 
their future lives. Why, then, did not this man succeed in 
life ? " lie knew not how to adapt himself to the age in 
which he lived." Yet no man ever possessed an equal 
facility of hending to times and circumstances, though in 
truth no man — no, not Cato or Socrates — ever yielded 
less to the principles of his age. Besides, Cato and Socrates 
gained all their reputation and influence by resisting their 
age ; and it might have been pardonable in Jesus, a man 
of obscure birth, had he sacrificed a little to popularity, 
especially as he did not associate himself with the Stoics, 
or profess himself an adherent of any one of the prevailing 
systems of the day. The rigid Cato betrayed his prin- 
ciples in some degree by carrying a servant with him, who 
pointed out the citizens by name, lest in shaking hands 
Cato might seem not to recognize his friends. Nothing of 
this sort is attributed to Socrates ; yet it ought to be con- 
sidered that Socrates was a retired philosopher, while 
Christ and Cato were public characters. Nor, in my opin- 
ion, is there so strong a resemblance between the Nazarene 
and Athenian as many have noticed. Socrates led a quiet, 
contemplative, theoretical life, and either from indolence 
or contempt of foreign nations, closeted himself at Athens, 
and scarcely professed himself a public character, much 
less the reformer of his nation. 

The short career of Jesus was the reverse of this ; and 
though many have been at a loss to discover a substantial 
motive for his action, no one has denied him an uncommon 
ardor in his pursuits. Therefore his want of success either 
supposes a great defect of character, or throws a veil of 
mystery over the man ; for it cannot be concealed that a 
strange and fatal inconsistency seemed to precede every 
step of Jesus. What a contrast between the mind and the 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 341 

actions of the man ! Never before was there seen such a 
powerful mind apparently counteracting itself. We search 
in vain to find the slenderest tie of connection between the 
mind and the conduct, the passions and pursuits of the 
man. Had he lived longer, he possibly might have 
unfolded himself. 

If candor should temper suspicion over the grave of a 
character we do not understand, the motives of Christ 
ought not to be prejudged. That man must be a consum- 
mate hypocrite who lays down the fairest system of virtue 
on which to raise a monument of usurped power. The 
man who clothes himself in humility in order to steal a 
robe of State, must be superior to all his contemporaries. 
In the road to sovereignty, who ever descended to the 
offices of a servant ? In pursuit of a royal crown, who 
ever underwent the public mockery of a crown of thorns ? 
Few have seriously charged Jesus with such motives. 
Human nature is more consistent, and human motives 
are less refined. 

However, let the motives of Christ be estimated as vari- 
ously as the various views of mankind, still his public life 
is not a less interesting subject of remark. We will draw 
a little nearer the man, and accompany him to the end 
of his life, — it is but one year more, — to his singular 
catastrophe. 

We must now imagine to ourselves an original character, 
who, conscious of his own extraordinary powers, had pur- 
posely reserved himself until he could appear the most as- 
cendant among men. As he was an obscure subject of a 
conquered nation which had sunk into a Roman province, 
whatever were his views, he might esteem it most prudent 
to reserve himself until the moment of his mature charac- 
ter. Hitherto he had conducted himself like a wary adven- 
turer ; and his succeeding movements were far from raising 



342 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

suspicion, lie neither forced himself, like an adventurer, 
on opportunity, nor even calmly waited its approach. If it 
was the first concern of Jesus to win to himself a numerous 
party, the method that he took, though at first successful, 
displayed a total ignorance of human nature, and left a 
blemish which marks an incomplete character ; for it is a 
blemish in a great man to lend himself to half of the 
community in despair of gaining the whole. 

The first adventure of Jesus, though perfectly consistent 
with the future tenor of his life, has no parallel. So extra- 
ordinary is it, that had it been related of any other person, 
it must have disappeared long since among a thousand 
fleeting fictions, or at best have preserved itself in some re- 
pository like the Arabian Nights. Alone, friendless, and 
meanly clad, unassuming, and destitute of every means of 
inducement except that mysterious expression of which we 
have already spoken, Jesus meets two fishermen, brothers, 
busy with their nets. In all probability they had never 
seen him before, had never heard of him, and knew nothing 
of the man or of his designs. Possibly they were young 
men in the rich enjoyment of domestic happiness ; j)rob- 
ably they were poor men, to whose daily industry a help- 
less, affectionate family looked for daily support ; perhaps 
they were desperate in their circumstances, of careless life, 
of reckless principles, and ready for any adventure. Yet 
Jesus made them no promises, he awakened no i)assion, 
he applied himself neither to their ambition, nor to their 
avarice — no, nor to their love of pleasure, to such men the 
passion most present ; he neither revealed his designs nor 
tempted their curiosity. " Follow me," said he, " and I 
will make you fishers of men." In a moment, without hesi- 
tation, sooner than reason could dictate a resolution, they 
deserted all. In a moment, this world had (Iwindiod in 
their estimation to a point, and a new scene oiiened to 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 343 

their imaginations, — which scene, thougli apparently as 
unsubstantial as a moonbeam, turned the future current of 
their lives. Although they fared hard and were generally 
despised as vagabonds of a new kind, yet they never 
forsook him, until, become dubious of heaven and earth, 
they saw the man arrested and led like a felon to a death 
more ignominious than that of the gibbet. This was no 
miracle ; but to me it is a miracle. It is a miracle in hu- 
♦ man nature, and therefore less liable to suspicion than a 
wrought miracle in the natural world. 

Thus this extraordinary man in a chance walk by the 
sea of Galilee, beckoned to two fishermen, and in a mo- 
ment fixed them forever in his interest. With Mahomet 
it was a labor of three years to gain fourteen proselytes ; 
and Mahomet possessed all those attributes of man which 
are capable of winning an enemy, or of commanding a 
friend. Before Mahomet spoke, says tradition, he was in 
possession of his audience, his presence charmed them, 
his gracious smile won them, his majestic aspect com- 
manded them, his piercing eyes fixed them, while his 
countenance revealed every sensation of his soul, and his 
gestures enforced every expression of his tongue. Yet Ma- 
homet distrustful as to his own eloquence, and doubtful 
of success, as soon as he had collected a few partisans 
furnished himself with a sword, and proclaimed himself a 
captain. Christ, on the contrary, when most famous and 
successful never fully expanded his views, but retained 
all his humility, and even condescended to wash the feet of 
his disciples. Mahomet, like Christ, promised heaven to his 
followers ; but Mahomet, brandishing his sword, declared 
that sword to be the key of heaven. Christ, on the con- 
trary, opened the gates of heaven to the repentant. Here 
he alarmed the conscience. With Mahomet, to conquer 
others was the crown of glory ; with Jesus, to conquer one- 



344 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

self. T(i the followers of the one, this world offered every- 
thing; to the followers of the other, this world promised 
nothinir. Mahomet opened a new world to the imagina- 
tion, and added flame to fire. What oriental could hesi- 
tate to follow the banners of Mahomet, when the houries 
of Paradise, dancing among the palm-trees, beckoned the 
fierce soldier to the delirium of eternal rapture ? Jesus, 
with one hand laid on his heart, pointed u})ward with the 
other, and held his followers by no other tic than a sub- 
lime faith. Mahomet gained everything; Christ suffered 
everything. Mahomet lived a conqueror, and died glori- 
ously ; Jesus lived like a vagrant, and suffered a felon's 
death. Mahomet established a new religion by bribing the 
passions ; Jesus Christ by taxing the passions. 

Passing on, Jesus sees two other fishermen with their 
father, on shipboard. They were mending their nets. " Fol- 
low me," said Jesus, and they left all and followed him. 
Soon the little company swells to a multitude. From all 
quarters, people of many descriptions flock to his presence. 
His fame is already extended to distant regions, even to 
Syria. Does tlie man not perceive he is hastening his own 
destruction ? Is it not treason under Tiberius to be found 
at the head of so many men in a Roman province ? What 
is his object ? Is it temporal power ? What weakness to 
collect an army without one soldier ! Is honest fame or the 
more im])Osing attractions of false greatness the object of 
his heart ? What folly to collect around him the most ig- 
norant, the most obscure, and the most abandoned I 

At the head of tliis checkered multitude, few of whom 
knew the man, or knew the motives of one another; at 
the head of this suspicious collection of idle, curious, 
wondering followers. Jesus, himself in appearance not 
less suspicious, ascended an eminence, and there seating 
himself, delivered a moral lecture. Never before was the 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 345 

world illuminated with such a discourse. Never before 
did such sublime precepts distil from the lips of a mortal. 
From that day forth, the heathen sages lost their credit. 
Their fine-spun casuistry sunk under the weight of a 
sublime moral ; their patch-work morality was trampled 
under foot and disgraced forever ; all their good was 
melted into this half-hour moral discourse. No won- 
der its force and novelty astonished the multitude. No 
wonder they stood looking to heaven in doubt, and were 
ready to follow him at hazard. How could they help re- 
posing all their confidence in the man whose unpremedi- 
tated discourse entered into every precinct of their hearts, 
and in humbling them by bringing to light all that was 
base, at the same time elevated them above this world by 
disclosing to them a sublime affinity ? That man, who, 
after laying open to men their hearts, can lead them at 
his pleasure, has surely found the principle which governs 
mankind. At this day we can only imagine the expression 
of the man's countenance ; the power of his words all 
men have felt. The charm of his words as uttered has 
departed, the beauty of his discourse is blemished by a 
halting translation, and the order is broken by chapter 
and verse ; but the substance remains, and will forever 
remain, an object of curiosity to taste or of improvement 
to piety. 

Human nature was thought to be raised by the Stoics to 
a dignity scarcely its own. But their moral austerity 
counteracted itself, and produced a pride and intolerance 
not always compatible with social life. The discourse of 
Jesus on the Mount gave a moral which, though built 
on humility, transcended the severity of the Stoics, and 
taught man what he ought to be rather than what he 
might be. The Stoics made no allowance for human 
frailty. Even the milder virtues were treated with con- 



346 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

tempt. Pity was a weakness, compassion a crime ; and 
love was divested not only of sentiment, but of heart. 
They tied up the passions, and chastised the sensations. 
Though he struck at the root of man's pride, Christ 
offered no violence to man's nature. He offered no new 
system ; he who addresses the human heart should never 
think of a system. 

But why did not the civil authority arrest the progress 
of this man ? We have already told the cause. Christ 
never offered a system. Of all men he was apparently 
least solicitous of reputation ; for though he commanded 
at pleasure the passions of others, he never manifested a 
passion of his own. Besides, his public life was too un- 
sociable for popularity, rather inspiring reverence than 
courting favor, — though in a private circle he was willing 
to adapt himself, and sometimes lent his presence to domes- 
tic assemblies. A man of this description, whose constant 
doctrine seemed to impress on his followers the duty of 
obedience, and even of acquiescence under every form of 
government, could not be obnoxious to the Roman author- 
ity of that day. Patience and resignation to others, is the 
doctrine most agreeable to a tyrant. Hence the cause of 
the persecution of this man must have been more deep 
and insidious than any alarm on the part of the civil au- 
thority. But was Jesus an advocate for arbitrary })ower ? 
Not Brutus was less so. With the feelings of a prophet, 
and with an unerring political foresight, he addressed 
himself, in general, to that great body of the community 
which in all countries and in all ages can find little on 
which to repose but a naked faith. Did he side with the 
rich against the poor ? Not Aristides was more just. Pid 
he inspirit the poor against the rich ? Not Thurlow was 
more austere. Tlie sagacity of Josus led him to foresee 
that under everv form of 'jovernmcnt tlie strong would prey 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 347 

upon the weak ; that the rich would oppress the poor ; that 
human society was just like the pyramid, the bottom of 
which must forever support the whole weight ; and that 
unless there was a sympathy on the one part and a moral 
feeling on the other, the union of men in society would 
beget a system of aggression and antagonism. No, Jesus 
offered no new system ; he only sublimated the religion 
of Nature. Regardless of forms and ceremonies, in the 
midst of the single institution, — the social board of bread 
and wine, — he taught his disciples to look directly to 
heaven. 

Nor was the civil power alarmed at this man's sudden 
renown. It was an admiration that followed rather than 
a popularity that was courted. Jesus never remained in 
one place a sufficient length of time for a sedition, much 
less for a conspiracy, to gain consistency. For whenever 
the people assembled in multitudes, it was his constant 
practice to retire speedily to some other city or village ; 
so that a sedition, although most terrible in a despotic 
government, in that it is never without cause, was not 
feared by the Roman authority in Judea, from the public 
carriage of Jesus. 

In this manner Jesus travelled over the principal parts 
of his country, evidently devoted to some pursuit, the 
object of which was doubtless in his own opinion superior 
to any of those attainments which usually excite the pas- 
sions of men ; for in the ardor of his purposes, Jesus 
overlooked all those objects which were most dear to the 
great men of antiquity, and likewise money, the passion of 
the present day. With a mind at once solid and brilliant, 
which seemed to place its chief delight in the conception 
of the sublimest moral truths, he left all his fame as a 
philosopher to the treacherous ears of an ignorant multi- 
tude, or to the care of a few associates who possibly could 



348 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

not write their names ! With a courage that never turned 
from an enemy, and with a firmness that encountered the 
whole Oj^position of the Pharisees, this man submitted to be 
spit upon, to be buffeted, to be smitten, and to be scourged. 
With pretensions to arrogate everything, this man claimed 
nothing; and only once complained that while the birds 
had nests, and the foxes had holes, he himself had not 
where to lay his head. In the midst of a people who were 
ready to worship him as a god, he was content to be derided 
as an impostor. In the midst of a people whose favor was 
ready to outstrip the wings of his expectation, Jesus sunk 
upon the public below Barabbas the robber. Yet, what 
is no less extraordinary, he lived perfectly contented, — 
neither envying the rich nor despising the poor. Nor did 
he endeavor to ameliorate the severity of his condition, or 
even to shun the ignominy of his fate, — a pathetic pre- 
sentiment of which he expressed a short time before his 
death. Yet this man, always in the depths of poverty, was 
reputed to work miracles ; but the greatest miracle of all 
is, he never wrought one in his own favor. In such a 
case would not any other man have exerted his power to 
control his wants, or even to insure his pleasures ? Would 
not an Oriental have turned water into wine for his own 
use ? Instead of a life of penance and penury would not 
the congenial climate of Judea have insj)ired convivial 
gratifications ? Instead of practising complete abstinence 
and chastity would not an Oriental, whose blood usually 
flows in a fiery current or trembles in a voluptuous lan- 
guor, have converted the very cedars of Lebanon into 
a harem ? Yet this temperate Nazarene preferred the 
brook or the rivulet to the joys of the vintage. Yet this 
humljlc Nazarene travelled over Judea on foot, and never 
rode but once, and then in a manner that seemed to 
court the contempt of the })opulace. Yet this self-deny- 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 349 

ing Nazarene frequented the tables of a Wapping and a 
St. Giles. Yet this Nazarene was as exemplary in his 
affections as though he had been dipped every morning 
in the river Cydnus. 

The fame of Jesus had now extended throughout Judea. 
Many of the genteel class, including not a few of the chief 
rulers, publicly whispered their doubts whether the man 
was not a supernatural being. This suddenly alarmed the 
Jewish hierarchy ; and this was the ruin of Jesus. The 
disinterestedness of his morality, his simplicity of life, his 
quaker-like inoffensiveness, might have saved him from 
persecution had he foregone that attribute which claimed 
the adoration of mortals, and which, in the opinion of the 
Jewish authority, stamped him at once an impostor. This 
unprecedented pretension would alone have rendered him 
dangerous to all those who dreaded a change ; for when 
once a religion is established, the presiding god is not 
permitted to interfere. The eloquence of Jesus was fre- 
quently directed against the chief priests, the Scribes, and 
the Pharisees. Imprudent man ! He might have known 
that every establishment, religious or civil, is cruel and 
unrelenting in the degree it is perverted. Yet Jesus pur- 
sued these hypocrites even into their sanctuaries, and over- 
whelmed them in their own temples. This an effort of 
enthusiasm ? No ; their silence confirmed their conviction, 
and confessed the triumph of reason. If this man had 
seconded their views ; if this man had thrown off his 
sackcloth, and doubly fringed his garments ; if this man 
had associated with the chief priests and the Jewish au- 
thority — and why did he not, if he was an impostor ? 
— if this man had only consented to become wliat his 
countrymen were more than ready to make him, — doubt- 
less his abilities must have rendered him an illustrious 
adventurer. 



350 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

The cliaracter of that age is well known. The Jewish 
liierarehy was paramount to the law of Moses. The cere- 
mony of the tithe of mint, of annisc, and of cummin was 
retained ; even the seat of Moses was respected, but the 
spirit of the lawgiver had departed. The mantle of Elijah, 
long since worn threadbare, had been cast off for the fine 
linen of the East, — an emblem of hierarchical purity! 
Imprudent man ! Did he not know that under such a sys- 
tem virtue is odious, and truth is treason ? Did he not 
know that the man who dares attempt to bring back a cor- 
rupted age to first principles is worthy of death ? Surely 
if this man was an impostor, of all men he was most weak. 
He associated with the people, who were nothing, and neg- 
lected the hierarchy, who, far more commanding than any 
hierarchy of the present day, were supposed to possess the 
fabulous key of the Roman Church. 

Now opens upon us a new trait in the character of Jesus. 
The meek, the humble, the modest son of Mary is no longer 
a wanderer from village to village, he no longer retires to 
the mountains, or frequents the sea-shores, but boldly pro- 
ceeds to the temple, — that very temple in which at the age 
of twelve years he had astonished all who heard him. 
There, in the midst of a multitude of enemies, in the 
temple of the Most High God, regardless of the reverence 
of the place, his only weapon the law of Moses, he throws 
himself in the face of the whole hierarchy. Tlie Scribes 
and Pharisees, heartless as their own principles, are con- 
founded ; for such is the dauntless attitude of the man, and 
such the nol)le frankness of his carriage, such the heart- 
a])palling terror of his rebuke, and such the overbearing 
vehemence of his reproach, that every passion of the hie- 
rarchy, except love of office, sinks under his superior pres- 
ence. Though these huml)led, proud men were clothed in 
authority, though an immediate apprehension was ju-acti- 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 351 

cable, not a whisper came from the lips of even one of the 
chief priests, not a motion from a Scribe, not a murmur 
from a Pharisee. They wondered at the deformity of one 
another, but each retained his own features. In contem- 
plating the picture, they seemed for a moment to for- 
get the painter. The Scribe revolted at the moral aspect 
of the Pharisee, while the Pharisee looked coldly upon 
the chief priests, and the latter, in turn, regarded both 
the others with scorn. 

It was no doubt a novel scene to behold a man whose 
romantic life and mysterious pursuits readily raised a 
suspicion of enthusiasm or of imposture boldly enter, in 
the character of a reformer, that temple which the Jews 
either from policy or superstition contended was the favor- 
ite earthly residence of the Uncreated. It was no doubt 
a novel scene to the hierarchy to behold this man not only 
usurp their office, but turn upon themselves with an unex- 
pected violence and indignation. Doubtless truth and con- 
viction must have pointed every expression, or Jesus must 
have raised a corresponding violence and indignation ; 
instead of which, the eyes of the whole hierarchy, fearful of 
the obscure Nazarene, are turned on themselves. Had Mo- 
ses himself appeared in the temple, treading on sunbeams, 
his head concealed in the dark cloud which once appeared 
on Sinai, and holding in his hands a scroll of the decalogue, 
they had not been more embarrassed, they had not been 
more astonished. Never in Greece or Rome did any orator 
so readily triumph over his adversaries ; and never did any 
orator — no, not Cicero nor Burke — venture to exhibit 
a public criminal in such repellent colors as those in which 
this carpenter's son presumed to portray the characters 
of fairest repute in Jerusalem. It was an overwhelm- 
ing attack, not only on their system but on themselves. 
They were unprepared with the least apology, and the 



352 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

charges were brought so completely home tliat all reply 
was precluded. 

This was one of those moral risks which reveal the man 
no less clearly than do the more brilliant actions of the 
hero ; and perhaps this moral experiment on the Jewish 
hierarchy was at once the most sublime and successful 
effort of indignant virtue which the world ever witnessed. 
Let us contemplate it for a moment. 

It demanded an uncommon firmness, I had almost said 
a madness, of mind to pronounce in the face of the nation 
the fiercest judgment on those who still arrogated to them- 
selves the seat of Moses, those whom ages had rendered 
sacred in the eyes of the people. There was in the pub- 
lic opinion, both in that and in all preceding ages, such 
an intimate connection between the emblem and the sub- 
stance of religion, between the priest and the national 
divinity, that a contempt of the god was more readily par- 
doned than an impiety to his priests. This indeed was 
natural, as the priests governed the gods, not the gods the 
priests. Hence no less a man than Alcibiades, who at 
various periods of his life was the most popular man at 
Athens, excited the puljlic horror from a bare suspicion 
of his having wantonly broken some of the statues of Mer- 
cury, and of his having acted in mockery at the conclu- 
sion of an entertainment (the awful Eleusinean mysteries), 
— not to mention Anaxagoras, and after him Protagoras, 
famous philosophers, Avho were thought to merit banish- 
ment for want of faith ; or Socrates, reposing in his ol'd 
age on a life as venerable for its virtue as were his locks 
for their whiteness, who was hurried before the tribunal 
of his country, and condemned to the hemlock for a sup- 
posed disrespect to the religious feelings of his country- 
men. Yet Jesus, supported only by his own presence, 
regardless of common prudence, and moi-c dauntless than 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 353 

either of those Greeks, always reserved his most unwel- 
come discourses for the ears of liis enemies. Looking 
around on the hierarchy, who were watching an occasion 
for a quarrel, Jesus colored with indignation ; and while 
he saw the abuses of many ages lie light on their hearts, 
he did not wait for the tide of their malice to meet the 
gathering of his own rebuke, but he silenced them for- 
ever with a " Woe unto you, Scribes, Pharisees, hypo- 
crites ! " Yet his wrath, the wrath of a generous mind, 
subsided in a moment, and like a sovereign judge who 
pities while he condemns, he moderated his fierce judg- 
ments in that most pathetic appeal : " O Jerusalem, Je- 
rusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children 
together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
wings, and ye would not ! " 

It was sufficient glory for Demosthenes to deliver his 
philippics in the midst of all Athens. Philip heard them 
not at Macedon ; and when the orator, in the character 
of an ambassador, waited on the king, the wretch was 
confounded. Cicero gained half his honors from Cati- 
line ; yet Cicero, in the midst of the Roman senate, trem- 
bled in the face of his enemy. Burke had collected all 
the indignant epithets of the East and the West, and 
safely, in a British parliament, aimed them at the ob- 
noxious Hastings. Where sliall we find a man who, un- 
supported and apparently disinterested, has hazarded so 
much as Jesus Christ ? 

It is impossible for such a man as this to flourish 
long in a corrupted state of society. Passive, negative 
virtue is not only tolerated, but sometimes applauded in 
the most degenerate condition of man ; but when an ad- 
ministration of government lends itself to national de- 
pravity, and the civil authority finds that it can gain 
most in the worst times, a man of active public virtue 

23 



354 Tin: HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

is more odious Ihan any object whom positive law may 
reach. Such a man cannot be endured; the splendor of 
his virtues darkens all around him ; the vital heat of 
his influence withers up the artificial growth of the holi- 
day virtues of his contemporaries in power. To a barren 
soil the early and latter rain is scarcely grateful ; the 
meridian sun is death to the heartless verdure. Those in 
power soon become sick of hearing Aristides called the 
just. For the same cause the virtuous Gilbert Wakefield 
was sacrificed in the prime of life, and the much en- 
during Priestley hardly found respite on the frontiers of 
the wilderness. 

Jesus must have known that his feelings and prin- 
ciples were wholly averse to the manners of his age, 
and that he could not long be endured. Yet how melan- 
choly for a man in the bloom of manhood, before his 
mother had experienced the pleasure of a mother in par- 
taking of the fame of her son ; before his associates, whose 
strong faith laughed at the idea of his catastrophe, had 
witnessed the ])ublic homage and consequent honors which 
they thought due to his character, — how melancholy for a 
man, conscious of his claims on society, to die so young, 
and like a malefactor, while his dearest relatives must 
necessarily partake of the ignominy of his fate I How 
abhorrent to his own nature to die so ignobly, while his 
heroic firmness was scarcely a counterl)alance to the 
extreme sensil/ility of his moral feelings ! 

" Yet Socrates died with equal fortitude, and perhaps 
with greater resignation." Socrates was seventy-two 
years of age, had outlived his contemporaries, was famous 
throughout Greece, and in the sanction of the Oracle 
was the best man of his times. To a philoso|)hor, life 
has few charms after seventy. Of this ojunion was 
Socrates, and it mingled ilsclf with the reasons of his 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 355 

• 

resignation. Among five hundred judges, Socrates was 
condemned by a majority of three. He was still in 
possession of his fame and virtue. 

Socrates lost notliing but his life, while Jesus suffered 
many deaths. Where were his friends in the trying 
moment ? Where was Peter ? Denying with an oath that 
he had ever seen the man ! Where was the beloved John ? 
The beloved John had fled. To whom could Jesus look 
for comfort ? To his wretched mother, who saw him 
nailed to the cross, and watched his last struggles. 

To Socrates, life in a great measure was indifferent. 
To Jesus this was impossible. At the age of thirty-three, 
though the rosy fragrance of youth has departed, hope 
still gladdens the heart ; the substance of life remains 
in perspective although its brightness may be faded. So 
that whether Jesus was possessed with the spirit of en- 
thusiasm, of imposture, or of pure virtue, life must have 
been exceedingly dear to him ; for whatever was his object 
he left it apparently unaccomplished. He had neither 
reformed the age, conquered his enemies, nor advanced 
himself. Apparently, his life was less useful tlian that 
of Socrates ; his virtue was too strong, too exacting for 
the times. Socrates, on the contrary, was always per- 
suasive ; and this was necessary in the declining virtue of 
the Athenians. Jesus was always imperative, and spoke 
like a god rather than like a man. This, seemingly, 
was the height of imprudence; yet this was his man- 
ner from the beginning, and in this he persevered to the 
moment of his death. His last expressions, especially, 
indicated that he was an enthusiast, an impostor, or a 
Heaven-ordained messenger. 

The hierarchy soon discovered their own emptiness. The 
contempt which the unprotected inconsequence of Jesus 
was ready to excite, gave a powerful effect to the earnest 



356 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

simplicity of his manner, and impressed his enemies with 
a sort of mysterious terror. They well knew that a re- 
former whose manners were serious, whose morals were 
unexceptionable, whose firmness prepossessed the confi- 
dence of the indifferent, and whose ready eloquence seemed 
to take in ideas with his eyes and impress them with his 
looks, would soon effect a change of affairs. Hence 
they naturally resolved on his death. It was ever the 
opinion of a majority, that an enemy however virtuous had 
better die than that they should lose their influence. They 
seemed to say : " The blood of one man, imputed to many, 
would scarcely stain their hands. In all human proba- 
bility, the miserable Nazarene would be forgotten in a 
short time, and his disappointed associates, ashamed of 
his fate, would be the first to revile the impostor, or 
laugh at the enthusiast. Let his partisans behold him 
dead ; let them witness his terrible catastrophe, and the 
delusion is over. No mortal ever worshipped a dead god, 
or erected a temple under a gibbet." Thou short-sighted 
Scribe ! Thou blind Pharisee ! In the opinion of a thou- 
sand generations that dead man will revive again ; a frag- 
ment of that infamous cross will be esteemed a sacred 
relic ; that temple in which his presence confounded you 
shall one day be destroyed, and his presence shall be sup- 
posed to fill tlio temple of tlio universe. 

Consistent from the beginning, Jesus neither courted nor 
shunned his enemies. In the moment of his arrest he ex- 
hibited a magnanimity which has never been surpassed. 
They approached him cautiously, but Jesus, suspecting 
their errand, first accosted them: "Whom seek ye?" 
"Jesus of Nazareth." "I am the man." There is the 
sublime in Nature, the sul)lime in sentiment, the sublime 
in action, and the sul)limo in ehnrnoter. Of all these 
the sublime in character is most admirable. Nothing from 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 357 

the mouth of any other man under similar circumstances 
has equalled this reply of Jesus. The " Strike, but hear 
me " of Themistocles has deservedly been celebrated ; 
the expression of Socrates in a moment of anger charm- 
ingly illustrates his presence of mind ; the reply of the 
Indian savage, " We are enemies," when asked his opinion 
of another, was perhaps an unconscious expression of sub- 
limity ; and the " Myself " of Corneille is more elevated 
than either, but the whole merit of the latter is due to 
Corneille. It is nothing but a sublime conception of the 
poet fitted on a great character ; whereas " I am the 
man " embraces not only the sublime of character, but 
also the sublime of action. 

" I am the man," said Jesus, and surrendered himself. 
No resistance, no evasion, no attempt to escape dishonored 
his past life. Regardless of himself, he was apprehensive 
for his friends only ; and when they were dismissed, this 
eloquent man was dumb. The same presence of mind 
and the same dignity which had accompanied him during 
his active life, accompanied him during the mockery of 
a judicial process. A short time before he had silenced 
the astonished hierarchy ; now he is arraigned a public 
criminal, — his life and reputation are at hazard. Perhaps 
he foresees his fate ; yet surely he will make one last effort 
to redeem his own memory from suspicion, and render jus- 
tice to the motives of his followers. Surely, they may 
have thought a man like Jesus, who had been so copious 
of promises, who had parcelled out twelve thrones in 
heaven to twelve poor men, would not in his last moments 
desert those who had so honorably supported him, those 
whose faith at all times was ready to surpass their 
senses. Surely, a man whose life had been devoted to 
partisans, whose sacrifices to him were perhaps greater 
than his to them, would not desert his followers. 



358 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

It was magnanimous in Socrates to wrap himself up in 
his past life. Socrates stood alone ; no one had risked his 
fortunes, his reputation, or his common sense on the char- 
acter or principles of Socrates. It was magnanimous in 
Scipio, when unjustly accused, to preserve a contemptuous 
silence. It was magnanimous and sufficient for Chatham, 
when it was insinuated in Parliament that the iiublic 
moneys had been plundered, to raise his trembling, death- 
white hand and shake it in presence of the nation, signify- 
ing that no gold had stuck to his fingers. 

The case of Jesus was different; no private individual, 
before or since, ever possessed such an easy and unlimited 
control over his fellow-men. How, then, must his followers 
have been astonished, when they heard the account of his 
dumb and passive death ! What less than a public ha- 
rangue, what less than an exposition of his principles 
and views could his disciples expect ? And what a field 
for his own feelings ! The man might have carried his 
whole soul into the eyes of his enemies. An emanation 
of his own virtue might have passed over and for a mo- 
ment i)urificd all his judges. His life was public ; and 
would it have been derogatory in him to appeal to his 
public life ? Might he not have proclaimed his own inno- 
cence, or at least have reasoned on the charges alleged 
against him ? Yet this eloquent man was dumb. He pre- 
served to the last his mysterious character, and seemed to 
die a natural death. The mystery ends not here : his dis- 
ciples neither complained of his conduct nor sympathized 
in his fate. His own disciples still carried their faith be- 
yond their senses, and adored the man in heaven who, 
they confessed, had died on a cross. Ilim they had fol- 
lowed ; for him they had forsaken all. Them he had apjiar- 
ently deserted, and left to the contempt of all men ; yet 
they followed this man l>eyond the grave, to place him on 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 359 

the throne of God. When the man was dead, those who 
knew him best, who had been for three years his bosom 
companions, worshipped him as the only true God, per- 
sisted he was a divine being, and not only suffered mar- 
tyrdom in the cause of this reputed malefactor, but in the 
moment of their sufferings sometimes converted their 
enemies to their own faith ! 

Here an objection, indeed a powerful one, presents it- 
self ; and that freedom of remark which pervades these 
pages requires a serious notice of the objection. If the dis- 
ciples of Jesus were at first credulous, and afterwards 
fanatic, their conduct after his death was not only natural, 
but politic. After the crucifixion, the disciples were on 
the point of becoming the laughing-stock of all men. If 
during the life of Jesus they were not only contented, but 
gloried in the humility of disciples, how deeply must they 
have been disheartened after his strange and unexpected 
deatli ! If their pride and self-love had not been greatly 
weakened under his discipline, their dubious feelings with 
the help of a warm imagination would rise into the 
fiercest fanaticism. Peter seems to have been the most 
violent of any of the disciples, and most capable of lead- 
ing an adventure. Is it not possible then, is it not within 
the limits of probability, that some one of these zealous 
partisans, when they saw the God whom they had wor- 
shipped dead and buried, should propose the bold design 
of establishing their novel system on its own ruins ? 
Would it have been unnatural for them to say : " Let us 
tell the world, and let us persist in it, that Jesus Christ 
the crucified God finished his career agreeably to an 
eternal decree, that his death shall prove the salvation 
of all who will believe in his divinity ; and to inspire the 
world with new hopes of immortality, let us proclaim his 



3G0 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

resurrection from the grave, and his ascension to heaven 
amidst a host of angels. This doctrine of faith so agree- 
able to the laziness of mankind, and this doctrine of im- 
mortality so Ihittering to human pride, will gain upon the 
world in proportion to our own apparent faith. We shall 
first gain the ignorant and abandoned ; their sincerity will 
supply new zeal. Afterward the wise will follow from 
self-interest. " 

A proposal like this might have arrested the attention of 
honest men in like circumstances with the disciples ; for there 
is but a hair's-breadth between fanaticism and falsehood. 

An objection like this, which is entirely circumstantial, 
if indeed it is a mere objection, is most satisfactorily an- 
swered by a recurrence to the circumstances from which 
it has arisen. It would be departing from the design 
of this essay to give a full discussion to any objection. 
However, I cannot forbear to observe that the evangelists 
have candidly intimated the disappointment and doubts of 
the disciples at the death of Jesus, and in the simplicity 
of their narratives either did not anticipate any objections, 
or, what is more probable, they justly reflected that their 
own attempts to answer them would only render their re- 
cord suspicious ; so that mankind are left to choose be- 
tween attributing to the evangelists great simplicity or deep 
design. Now, there is certainly nothing on the face of 
either of the gospels which reveals the sjiirit of intrigue, 
of enthusiasm, or of selfishness. Not Xenophon, of all 
writers the most artless, has more simplicity than Saint 
John. Hence if we cannot l)ring home to either of the 
evangelists the charge of enthusiasm or of selfishness, the 
objection loses much of its weight ; especially, when we 
consider that one of the disciples, who was afterwards a 
famous preacher, denied his association witli Jesus, an- 
other sold him, and a third, after tlie death of Jesus, 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 361 

proved inflexibly incredulous of 'his resurrection until he 
was convinced by the most perfect demonstration. 

This looks very little like a conspiracy of fanatics. 
Fanaticism is all passion ; it is bound as with a chain to its 
object. But the disciples, confessedly, were in a state of 
despondency for several days after the crucifixion. Judas, 
the treacherous Judas, was rather a calculator than a parti- 
san. It may justly be objected that it is impossible to sup- 
pose that the trusted Judas could follow Jesus one year, lis- 
tening to his high pretensions, and, convinced of his divinity, 
betray him to his enemies. This doubtless seems too absurd 
to credit. Yet so is the fact reported. Still, Judas himself 
will best answer this objection. " I have betrayed innocent 
blood," said he ; and in the pangs of remorse casting away 
the unholy profit, he executed martyrdom on himself, — an 
act which bore witness for Jesus no less than did the death 
of Stephen. On the contrary, had the speculating Judas at 
any moment during his intimacy with Jesus discovered im- 
posture, the crafty man would have raised his own reputa- 
tion and acquitted a public duty in surrendering to the 
State a dangerous impostor; while the credulous, disap- 
pointed disciples, ashamed of the disgraceful catastrophe of 
the wretch whom they had honored as Lord and master, 
would have turned upon the corpse in silent indignation, 
rather than carry on the imposture at such an imminent 
hazard. Otherwise, defenceless as they were, they must 
necessarily have effected everything by the force of speech. 
Destitute of the swords of Ali and Omar, and hopeless of 
the rewards of those conquering proselytes, the humble Gal- 
ileans had to support two of the most difficult problems in 
nature, — the divinity of a man who had been crucified, 
and his resurrection from the dead. All this, without any 
hope of reward, either in this world or the next, unless we 
are willing to suppose the barren glory of martyrdom in 



3G2 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

ail unholy cause, or tlie dubious fame of giving currency 
to a daring imposture could influence those poor, inconse- 
quential men. To suppose this would surely he refining 
on human motives beyond common experience. 

" I am the man," said Jesus, and surrendered himself. 
It is thought to be greatly to the honor of Socrates that he 
disdained the proposal of his friends, who offered the means 
of escape. The proposition was derogatory, and the refusal 
claims no merit. Socrates was constant to himself (this is 
high praise) ; but Socrates could not conduct himself other- 
wise. There arc certain situations in which great men are 
sometimes placed that forbid them to descend from their 
characters. The sick lion suffers in silence, and calmly 
parts with life ; and the eagle in his descent turns his head 
towards the sun. It was impossible for Cato to live under 
Caesar, or for Brutus to live under Anthony. In our own 
times it was equally impossible for the virtuous Moreau to 
live under Buonaparte. 

The situation of Jesus Christ was different. His name 
had not become familiar, like that of Socrates, throughout 
the world. No oracle had espoused the reputation of Jesus. 
His fame had scarcely reached Rome, and that in a private 
letter. A young man like this might have fled from perse- 
cution, though capitally condemned, and have preserved his 
credit. To Socrates this was impossible. He could have 
concealed himself among the Scythians, yet had he done 
so the fugitive philoso])her would have forgotten that he 
was once Socrates. Whereas if Jesus had fled, his more 
mature years might honorably have retrieved liis charac- 
ter ; and if he were innocent, it was his duty to preserve 
himself, if ])0ssiblc, in order to illuminate the moral world. 
Instead of which he Hung himself away. In the jn-ime of 
life, without an effort, he Ihing liimsrlf away ; and with all 
his faculties wrought uj) to their highest tone, he died in 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 363 

a manner too unprecedented to bear a rational discussion, 
unless we consider him an unfortunate adventurer. Then 
the question which has raised this inquiry offers itself: If 
Jesus Christ was an impostor, what were his motives ? If 
he was an enthusiast, where were his passions ? If he was 
a hero, where was his sword ? 

The life and death of Jesus have marked his character 
with too mucli precision to mistake him either for an enthu- 
siast or a hero. The single question which will bear an 
examination is, Was he a god or an impostor ? This ques- 
tion, on which the character of Jesus must forever rest, 
remains to be considered. I thought it more illustrative 
and more logical to reserve this point for the conclusion, as 
the preceding remarks on his life and conduct have natur- 
ally led to this inquiry, — an inquiry which is exceedingly 
difficult, and which allies itself to the feelings or interest of 
most men. Hence liberality in research may appear like 
levity, and the least bias will look like bigotry. This in- 
quiry might be extended to any length, embracing human 
nature in all its motives, windings, prepossessions and 
self-delusions ; but the general reasoning may be confined 
to a narrow compass. 

Mankind have been detected so frequently in corrupt mo- 
tives, and have so often suffered a dereliction from the 
avowed ties of moral necessity, that a profession of virtue, 
to the busy part of the world, has become more odious 
than even wicked principles ; as herein the meanness of 
duplicity is spared, and the danger of deception more easily 
avoided. So that the cloak of virtue has become the baize 
shirt of the sailor, — worn in winter to keep out the cold, 
in summer to keep out the heat. This bias of mankind to 
suspicion is further strengthened from tlie disgraceful con- 
sideration, that every age, when time has illustrated char- 



3G4 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

acter and diiumcd the glare of greatness, has erected a hun- 
dred gibbets for one statue. Hence it has become not only 
a s])cculative, but a common opinion, that extraordinary 
pretensions ought to raise extraordinary suspicion. This 
belief is likewise strengthened from the fact that those 
who are most conversant with the busy world, have least 
faith in their fellow-men ; so that suspicion, wariness, and 
circumspection have long since become a brancli of the 
minor morals, called prudence, caution, and self-defence. 

Nor is this suspicion confined to any particular class of 
men ; the general mass of mankind, in the opinion of one 
another, requires incessant watching. This suspicion soon 
becomes a sentiment, a habit of feeling, and in the de- 
gree a man's own head becomes gray, he thinks worse 
of his gray-headed neighbor. Ilcnce in the opinion of 
old men, the last generation is always the worst; and in 
their fearful apprehensions the end of the world is a]> 
preaching, — a sentiment that forcibly reveals their own 
depravity. Fortunately, men rarely live a hundred years, 
and more fortunately still, they lose their brightest facul- 
ties long before that period ; otherwise gray hairs and 
depravity would convey a like import. If youth is loss 
susjjicious and less suspected than age, it is but a short 
credit, which a little experience soon cancels. 

Under a scrutiny so severe, he must be a wonderful 
man who, rising suddenly from private life, asserts him- 
self a public reformer, and single-handed tramj)lcs on a 
nation's prejudices. The character of Jesus, not only in 
his own day, but since, has borne this test, — the test of a 
public reformer, and a man of exemplary morals : while 
the charge of imposture or of hyjiocrisy has never been 
fairly brought homo to him, although his pretensions wore 
of the highest nature, and were considered by many as 
proceeding from an imjtious arrogance. 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 365 

Imposture has a cloak of many colors. The highest 
kind of imposture is political. It is then the offspring 
of a determined ambition, compelled for a time to smother 
its fires. When successful, it is connected with a saga- 
cious mind, steady resolutions, and a deep knowledge of 
its own times. It is always full of intrigue, secrecy, and 
boldness, accompanied with many of the best qualities of 
the mind. In its object it may be defined as " corrupt 
views to a corrupt end." Slow and calculating in its op- 
erations, it feels its way, and becomes subservient to the 
times. Unlike hypocrisy, which requires only a cloak, 
imposture, more active, is in pursuit of some great end. 
In the degree it is successful it ceases to be impos- 
ture, by reason of the arduous task to which it is sub- 
jected; for no man prefers to accomplish by fraud what 
he can obtain any other way. We find that impostors, the 
moment they were able, have universally adopted force 
instead of fraud ; and hence the proclamation of Ma- 
homet, in the full tide of his success : " The sword is 
the key to heaven, and the blood of the faithful will 
smell to heaven more odoriferous than frankincense." 
Unlike enthusiasm, which carries its heart in its head, 
and presses blindly forward, political imposture has a 
tally for every step. The Macedonian and the Swede 
were enthusiasts. They were not in pursuit of enemies, 
but objects ; otherwise the Scythian and the Turk would 
never have been attacked. Julius C«sar was an impostor 
from the beginning, and calmly waited thirty years, until 
the sovereign power, fearful of a renewal of the days of 
Marius and Sulla, seemed to court his protection. The 
modern Attila would have been an impostor had not the 
exertion of an opportune force on his part and the love 
of plunder on the part of the French people exhibited 
him at once in his true character. 



3GG THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Religious imposture is more direct in its aim, and the 
enthusiasm with which it is always accompanied, gives it 
an easy currency, and sometimes, in the end, conceals 
from itself its own imposture. It is necessary that it 
should have a new system or a new docti-ine to support, 
otherwise it soon loses its glow of enthusiasm, and then 
the charm dissolves. 

To religions imposture an era of ignorance and super- 
stition is necessary. An enlightened age never sees an 
imposture of this description ; but the political impostor 
will seek to accomplish his purpose in any state of society, 
and is most successful in the degeneracy of a common- 
wealth. There is no instance of a successful religious 
imposture in a well-organized society. 

Literary imposture, likewise, delights in systems, para- 
doxes, and new theories. The boldest truths are often 
thrown out in its extravagant pursuits. This species of 
imposture is seldom dangerous ; its object is only a sud- 
den and novel fame. The last century was remarkable 
for a number of philosophic impostors. 

If Jesus Christ was an impostor, he was doubtless a 
political impostor ; although his reserved demeanor and 
moral discourses exhibit an imposing religious aspect. 
That grandeur of character, those strong and calm traits, 
that habitual moderation and ready eloquence, that com- 
mand over others in his most passive moments, and that 
eager readiness to sympathize with the unhappy, which 
is no mark of ambition or of enthusiasm, never yet dis- 
tinguished a religious impostor. If tradition has given to 
Mahomet most of these great qualities, history has also 
given him the character of a soldier and a statesman. 
It would be derogatory to the abilities of Jesus to rank 
him in the class of sectaries. If he was an impostor, 
his mysterious carriage and public discourses were well 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 367 

calculated to gain an ascendency over the populace, and 
this ascendency was but the nearest object in his ex- 
panded view. 

Let us now inquire if the conduct of Jesus can fairly be 
charged with imposture. It must be granted that his- life 
was clouded in singular mystery, and that the motives 
both of his public and private movements were, in general, 
inexplicable to his associates. How do we know that the 
long period of his obscurity was not consumed in the con- 
templations of future aggrandizement ? How do we know 
that he was not studying the character of his times, and 
cultivating his popular talents ? In retirement, Mahomet 
formed liimself into the future prophet of Arabia ; with 
nobler views, and though under the imputation of idiot- 
ism, the elder Brutus was successfully planning the lib- 
erty of his country. There certainly was, both in that 
and in the times preceding those in which Jesus flour- 
ished, every inducement for political adventurers. The 
public mind was ready to encourage the most daring 
pretensions. A long-expected and powerful captain was 
to protect their declining fortunes in those particulars 
so interesting to all men, — politics and religion. In the 
ardor of expectation, the public was ready to add inspira- 
tion to the enthusiasts, and the most active powers of 
God to the impostor. The national ambition was inter- 
ested, and the public, when they please, can deify. In 
such times a great man scarcely earns his greatness ; the 
public anticipate him. In all probability had another 
great man, a crafty, prudent man, like Sertorius, declared 
him.self in opposition to Jesus, Sertorius had preceded in 
public confidence the more unassuming Nazarene. Hence, 
in this respect, Jesus had much the advantage of Ma- 
homet. It was the first concern of the Arabian to pre- 
pare the public mind ; whereas Jesus, had his pretensions 



308 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

been even more suspicious, could not have anticipated the 
wishes of his nation. 

If the times were thus favorable to an impostor, and if 
the private life of Jesus is not without suspicion, his public 
conduct is not wholly free from mystery. 

Why did he associate from the beginning with that 
class of people who in a degenerate state of society con- 
sider themselves outlaws from the community, with a 
people so fond of adventure that it required only a beckon- 
ing to lead some of them in his train, and only a single 
discourse to fix them as partisans ? Why did he select 
those who, though they left all, left nothing ? He had an 
opportunity of winning one young man of great posses- 
sions, — an ingenuous young man, naturally disposed to vir- 
tue. Him he laid under what, at least in this age, may be 
called an impossible restriction ; and the young man went 
away sorrowful. Nor, if we judge that age by our own, 
ought it to seem extraordinary that the rich, to whom Jesus 
showed no courtesy, refused to mingle with a collection of 
people who seemed to hold in contempt that selfishness 
which the usual laws of property inculcate. The rich hate 
abstract equality. On the contrary, if Jesus was an im- 
postor, he wisely discountenanced the rich and the great. 
These are generally timid, and can seldom be depended 
on in the moment of emergency. Whereas those v.'ho fol- 
lowed Jesus, having once pledged themselves, were retained 
from personal considerations. Danger, far from dissipa- 
ting, would unite them; fear would give courage, and 
instant ruin, intrepidity. 

There are a few other circumstances attending the public 
life of Jesus, not wholly without exami)le in the lives of 
other great men. His retirement to the mountains for 
forty days gave an unnecessary mystery to his character, 
already mysterious in the eyes of his own disciples. Yet it 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 369 

must be confessed that the comparatively enlightened age 
of Judea would have rendered this secrecy impolitic in an 
impostor. Temporary retirement is a device worthy of a 
dark or superstitious age only. Numa Pompilius, no doubt 
an excellent man, gained much of his consequence from 
the Egerian grove ; and the secluded character of Mahomet 
threw a ray of divinity over the impostor. Lycurgus, too, 
offers an incident similar to one which is said to have hap- 
pened to Jesus. The oracle pronounced Lycurgus " Beloved 
of the gods, and a god rather than a man." A voice, too, 
proclaimed : " This is my beloved son in whom I am well 
pleased." The sacred birds of the Romans, and the holy 
dove afford but a partial resemblance ; and likewise the 
dove and the milk-white hind of Sertorius. The entry 
of Jesus into the temple and the expulsion of the mer- 
chants bear a strong likeness to the entry of Cromwell 
into the British parliament. These particulars are more 
striking in contrast with the general simplicity of the 
carriage and conduct of Jesus. 

To all this and much more which might be objected, I 
will only reply, that Jesus Christ, if he was an impostor, 
was of all men most weak, inefficient, and wrong-headed. 
Of this his early death and uniform eccentricity are suffi- 
cient proof. On the contrary, if he was not an impostor, 
he may be considered successful in an eminent degree. 
Not Alexander, who in the intoxication of pride forgot his 
father Philip, allied himself so equally to the Great First 
Cause as did the Nazarene in his sober senses, and in his 
most unpromising circumstances. Yet Philip, though a 
conqueror, whose head above the clouds became giddy 
from its own height, and whose eyes, dazzled by the splen- 
dor of his own glory, saw not the devastation which the 
print of his feet left behind, was but a laughing-stock in his 
pretensions to his own creatures and bacchanals, while the 

24 



370 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Nazarenc, ready to become the servant of all, at the same 
moment challcnt^cd unlimited faith to his sublime allin- 
ity. Therefore if Jesus was an impostor, he was doubtless 
unsuccessful. But if he was not an impostor, it is too 
much to say he did not attain his object ; especially as 
he himself indicated as much in his last expression, " It 
is finished." 

Who will say that Jesus was either a weak man or ineffi- 
cient in his purposes ? That he was wrong-headed cannot 
be disputed with the money schemers, the ambitious, and 
the calculators on time and chance. But, however shiftless 
Jesus may seem to the man of the world, and however weak 
and unsuccessful he may appear to the politician, the mys- 
terious and instant command that he exercised over his 
numerous followers, himself professedly the humblest of 
all, sufficiently marks the strength and power of his charac- 
ter. Nor was he by any means destitute of address and 
knowledge of the world. Ilis conduct in several in- 
stances will best illustrate this strength of mind and 
ready judgment. 

His decision on the question of the tribute money, and 
his rebuke to the hasty Peter, when he drew his sword on 
the servant of the high priest, display a quick and prudent 
judgment. But his question to the Jews on the baptism of 
John, surpasses in sagacity anything related of Socrates in 
throwing his adversaries into a dilemma. His reply to 
those who questioned the propriety of plucking the jcars of 
corn on the Sabbath, is a memorable instance of temperate 
reproach. The young man, too, who went away sorrowful, 
was the best possible illustration of the doctrine of grace 
inculcated by Jesus. 

With such faculties, all-essential to an impostor, and such 
as might have commanded success in any of the usual i)ur- 
suits of ambition, Jesus, although a pul)lic man, }»reservod 



THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 371 

his original poverty, sought no offices, solicited no friends, 
deprecated no enemies, and still claimed a share of the 
Godhead. Although he persevered in this celestial claim, 
he carried himself with so much meekness and humility 
that his public conduct was marked by no human motive ; 
for so little selfishness did the tenor of his life exhibit, 
that his predominant passion was a secret to his own dis- 
ciples : so if Jesus Christ was an impostor, we may boldly 
declare that the secret of his imposture was buried with 
him in his grave. 

If such had been the extraordinary life of any other per- 
son, his death would properly conclude the subject ; but the 
life of this man, however uncommon, bears no parallel with 
his wonderful destiny, — a destiny, which had it been dis- 
tinctly foretold in his own life-time, would have required, 
perhaps, as much faith to have believed it then, as is noio 
required for belief in the record of the evangelists. When 
the dead body of this crucified person was exposed to the 
populace, could the faith of man be more severely tried 
than in listening to the story of his future destiny ? It is 
by no means incredible that a Jew who had declared him- 
self the Son of God, yet being incompetent to support his 
sublime pretensions, should lose his character, and sink be- 
low the ordinary reputation of malefactors. But at that 
period it must have seemed incredible to all men that this 
person, whose fate was so contemptible that it did not ex- 
cite the common sympathy of humanity, should soar from a 
gibbet to the throne of God, should enjoy a co-equality with 
the creator of the universe, and in the opinion of succes- 
sive generations, should partake of divine honors both on 
earth and in heaven. "Wonderful destiny ! that a man who 
when among his fellows had no home, and when dead was 
beholden to the kind offices of a stranger for his interment, 
should, in leaving his miserable garments, his coat without 



372 THE HUMAN CHARACTER OF JESUS CHRIST. 

a seam, to be divided among his executioners, ascend within 
three days to heaven amidst a host of angels, to be wel- 
comed to the throne of the Most High God I Wonderful 
destiny ! that such a man, once the contempt of the world, 
and apparently deserted both by heaven and earth, should 
become the vehicle of all the hopes of the children of 
Adam ; and through every succeeding age, whether dark or 
enlightened, whether superstitious or philosophical, should 
enjoy, as well in the palaces of kings as in the cottages of the 
poor, the real or pretended worship of whole nations. 

Such is the destiny of Jesus Christ, a man above all 
others mysterious in his life, singular in the circumstances 
of his death, and wonderful after his death from the influ- 
ence of his character on the most enlightened parts of 
the world. 



AN 

ORATION, 

PRONOUNCED AT 

CHARLESTON N, 

AT THE REQUEST OF THE 

ARTILLERY COMPANY, 



SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE , BEING THE ANNIVERSARY OF 

THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL, AND 

OF THAT COMPANY. 



How deep the brave who fink to refl 
With all their country's honors bleft ! 

"^ Collins. 



THE RUINS OF OUR HABITATIONS AND ALTARS MAY ARISE IN 

TEN FOLD SPLENDOR, — NOT SO OUR LIBERTIES — 

ONCE GONE, THEY ARE LOST FOREVER 1 



By WILLIAM AUSTIN, A. B. 

Printed by SAMUEL ETHERIDGE. 
1801. 



CHARLESTOWN, Wednesday Aflci-noon, June 17///, 1801. 

T^HE Subscribers, a committee in behalf of the Artillery Com- 
pany of Charleslown, beg leave to express to you, sir, their 
thanks for the eloquent and patriotic Oration which you pronounced 
by their desire this day, and request a copy for the press; it being 
the unanimous vote of the Company. 

joseph miller. 

john carter. 

wm. h. manning. 

wm. wood. 

josiah harris. 

Mr. Wm. AUSTIN. 



Gentlemen : 

The candor which you have already exercised, is again requested; 
conscious of the rectitude of principle which influences the following 
pages, I have only to apologize to the court of criticism. 
/ am, with much respect, 

your humble servant, 

Wm. AUSTIN. 
Capt. Miller. 

Lieuts. Caktkk and ^Iaxning. 
Messrs. Wm. Wood, Josi.\n Hakkis. 



AN ORATION. 



AMERICANS, fellow-citizeus, freemen! The respect 
which a people pays to the memory of those who 
purchased their freedom is the standard of their own worth. 
That nation is still free when the people dare assert that 
their fathers were free. If they know how to confess their 
principles, they are not dead to their influence. 

In obedience to the laudable custom of our country, 
and to the wishes of a respectable portion of our citi- 
zens, we have assembled on this anniversary to honor 
the principle, to celebrate the deeds, to mourn the memo- 
ries, but to glory in the fate of those who died for their 
country. The occasion, the subject, the principle, the 
scene, are all sublime, and worthy the highest style of 
freemen. For if there can possibly be an occurrence ca- 
pable of abstracting man from every selfish relation and 
transporting him beyond the bounds of humanity to new 
and nobler sensations, it must be like the present ; if 
there be a subject capable of fixing transitory emotions, 
of rousing the slumbering spirit of our country's love, 
and of reminding a nation of the first motives which in- 
duced the assertion of their rights, it must be like the 
present ; if there be a certain principle thought sometimes 
to inhabit mortality, and whose presence these heights, we 
believe, once witnessed, if its influence be not departed, let 
this day fix it forever ! If there be a scene in Nature from 
which the patriot youth would wish to receive his first im- 
pressions of a virtuous emulation, or from which the poet 



376 AN ORATION. 

would vrhh to insure his own immortality, or which the 
pencil of Trumbull would not disdain to color, or lastly, 
in which the war-worn veteran would wish to find a grave, 
— here lies that scene ! 

Fellow-citizens ! the present occasion offers a subject on 
which I know your sentiments will all accord — for who is 
here who does not love his country ? — a subject, the in- 
cidents of which will awaken the ready sympathy of every 
bosom; a subject which ought to melt the frost of age, 
and cause the current of its blood to ebb back to the 
days of '75 ; a subject wiiich, I trust, will renovate those 
feelings which inspired, and strengthen those principles 
which asserted us, freemen. Therefore, for a few mo- 
ments, let us give the present times to oblivion ; let us 
forget the intermediate days that are passed, lest a dis- 
cordant idea should break the charm ; let us consider 
ourselves for a few moments — it is but a fiction — the 
subjects of England, and become spectators of that scene 
which we are so justly proud to celebrate, and in which 
some of you were actors. 

The situation of our country at the period wc now 
contemplate, demanded the united energies of man ; yet 
such was the discord of opposing interests that the wisest 
cautiously adopted, or even positively mistrusted, their own 
counsels, while the bravest either stifled or denied their 
own feelings. The whole country appeared to be without 
any distinct or particular object. Resistance was thought 
intemperate rashness ; a separation from the mother coun- 
try was a novel idea, and listened to with alarm and 
surprise. The whispers of independence were treated as 
the effusions of madness and desperation. Comjiare the 
two countries, it was repeatedly urged. In one you be- 
hold riches, power, unlimited credit, and the vigor of a 
strong and well consolidated government; in the other, 



AN ORATION. 377 

poverty, weakness, distraction, and distrust. In the one 
you behold a self-supported and conquering nation, fresh 
from the field of victory, in whose presence Europe trem- 
bles, at whose feet France and Spain are still humbled ; in 
the other, the feeble and abortive exertions of imbecility. 
In the one you behold Hercules in the strength of man- 
hood ; in the other, the infant of yesterday. The first 
blow which the enemy will strike, will annihilate your 
commerce, dry up the sources of subsistence, wither every 
nerve of opposition, and insulate you from every foreign 
succor. Wage a war with England ! England will not 
believe you to be in earnest ; England has still so much 
regard for your welfare as to lament the madness of the 
enterprise. To her a tedious war might be ruinous ; to 
America it must be fatal. In addition to all this, the 
terrors and consequences of rebellion were impressed on 
our minds, and new chains shaken over our heads. 

The moment was now hastening when the overflowing 
waters of bitterness threatened to swallow the whole coun- 
try. A last and solemn appeal is made to Heaven, to Eng- 
land, to the world. Heaven and earth, England excepted, 
heard our appeal, acknowledged our reasons, and justified 
our measures. "What were those demands that England 
perseveringly refused until compelled to grant, together 
with all her empire over these States ? They were surely 
not unreasonable ; as subjects of England we only de- 
manded the rights of Englishmen. These were refused. 
Though England herself at this time was the freest na- 
tion on the globe, yet like the Spartans, free herself, she 
wished to enslave others. Sparta had her helots. England 
emulated Sparta ; and we, — ought we to restrain our in- 
dignation ? — we were doomed to be English helots ! 

The moment arrives when military power wantons over 
.our land, and oppression becomes multiform. Now rises 



378 AN ORATION. 

the spirit of the country. Now appears man in his greatest 
glory, struggling against inexorable misfortune. Now are 
realized those scenes which degenerate ages had sullied 
as fictitious. Now oppression is risen to its height. Now 
is offered the last alternative ; the sword in one hand, 
chains in the other. It is no time for counsel now ; the 
present sensation disdains reflection. Interest, prudence, 
calculation, consequences, where are they ? Forgotten or 
despised. The breast is made bare to the sword ; the 
chains are hurled back in defiance. England, we ap])eal 
to thee once more, are we not worthy the British name ; 
do we not merit the name of freemen ? Then recall thy 
troops, disband thy armies, liberalize thy policy, ameliorate 
thy exactions, give us back our liberties. It is not yet too 
late ; sheathe thy sword ere it be stained in our blood, and 
all may be well. Still inexorable I Must our blood flow ? 
Then let it flow, even to the last drop ; let it be poured 
out profusely ; let its stains be indelible ; let it redden 
the whole land ; but it shall be mingled with the blood 
of our enemies. 

There are certain moments when it may be prudent to 
act without any regard to circumstances ; when reason will 
embarrass and reflection confuse. The present moment 
must be instantly seized, and stamped with its appropriate 
image, or in the next it will fade and become indistinct. 
Such moments are rare, deejjly interesting, and always par- 
take of the great and sublime. Such a moment is the 
present, big with defeat, disgrace, bondage ; or victory, 
glory, freedom. A moment similar to this our country 
anticipated. The moment arrives; the case is desperate, all 
is involved ; in an instant the die will bo cast and destiny 
irrevocable. A moment like this miglit well arrest the 
notice of man, for it involved the dearest principle of the 
human breast. Europe did pause ; it was a pause honor- 



AN ORATION. 379 

able to humanity. She fixed on us her undivided attention, 
and gave us her best wishes. Her slaves feeling their own 
chains lighter, kindled into sympathy, and must have ex- 
perienced a transitory sentiment of liberty. Now are our 
enemies in imagination triumphant, while our friends 
tremble for the result. Both are equally astonished ; the 
fleeting moment of our destiny is seized and immortal- 
ized. Regardless of consequences, regardless of circum- 
stances, regardless of life, all is hazarded. The first vein 
which the enemy opens is to bleed seven years, and the 
rankling wound is perhaps never to heal. An arduous war- 
fare is essayed which might have appalled the hearts of the 
stoutest myrmidons of Achilles. Still regardless of conse- 
quences, the emergency demands, and every friend to his 
country becomes, a soldier, and every soldier a hero. 

Is this truth, my fellow-citizens ? If not, contradict 
me. I speak in the presence of those who acted what I 
am describing. Am I painting scenes which never existed ? 
No ; here stands one monument of them. Am I relating 
the deeds of a distant age, obscured by fable, magnified by 
reason of their obscurity, and embellished in the wanton- 
ness of imagination ? No ; I dare not depart from truth. 
The date of these incidents is too recent, and the incidents 
themselves too forcibly impressed on your memories to 
bear the slightest exaggeration. The exploits of a Jason, 
of an Agamemnon, of a Theseus and others, may well sur- 
prise, it being uncertain if such characters ever existed. 
Fable is ever fruitful, and delights in the marvellous. An 
extraordinary man becomes a hero after his death ; and 
perhaps in the next age this hero becomes a god. Our 
felicity is consummate. While we relate the deeds, we can 
point to the place, we can particularize the moment, we 
can show the graves of the slain, we can produce their 
bones, — nay, more ; we can produce the living characters 



380 AN ORATION. 

which the grave has kindly spared, some of them to i)ar- 
ticipate in those blessings which their sublime labors 
purchased for their posterity. 

The blood of our brethren which is first offered on the 
altar of oppression, at the shrine of a fancied parliamentary 
omnipotence, — that blood is not lost; it animates every 
bosom, it circulates in every vein, it mollifies every humor, 
it harmonizes the whole system. Already arc the colonics 
united ; jealousies, aversions, local prejudices, partial at- 
tachments, all vanish. Customs, manners, forms of gov- 
ernments, religions, all assimilate. The flame of patriot- 
ism spreads from breast to breast, from colony to colony, 
acquires new strength in passing, and glows with equal 
splendor in the South and North. The echoes of liberty 
and of our country's love rebound from the mountains of 
Vermont, shake the plains of the lowlands, and bound 
back from distant Georgia. Already are the ties of con- 
nection between the two countries dissolved. Now in 
reality the broad Atlantic rolls between us ; we are already 
the United .States, we are already independent. We need 
not wait for the Declaration, — independence is already 
declared ; the war is finished, — America is conqueror. 
We are no longer subjects, but citizens ; no longer slaves, 
but freemen. 

England, farewell ! Thy influence is gone ; thy empire is 
departed. Now look to thyself, England ! Why wilt thou 
lavish thy blood and treasure ? Are the lives of fifty thou- 
sand of thy subjects nothing? Are one hundred millions 
of treasure nothing ? Oh, madness ! that treasure which is 
lavished on our chains will burden thy own subjects even 
to slavery. Look to thyself, England ! Avert, if possible, 
thy own disgrace ; save at least the wreck of thy fortunes. 
Why wilt thou hazard in America those laurels wliieh tliy 
Edward and Henry won at the battles of Crecy and Agin- 



AN ORATION. 381 

court in France ? Save thyself, then. Recall thy troops ; 
it is not yet too late to save thyself. Tempt us no further. 
We do not thirst for the blood of our brethren ; but tempt 
us no further. In vain ! Still inexorable ! Still deaf to 
the omens of the departing shade of thy own glory ! Oh, 
heavens ! we have the secret, — England believes us 
cowards ! ^ This is too much. If we could forget the 
great principle which inspires us, we would forgive thee, 
England, all thy oppressions ; we would despise all the 
injuries we have received ; we would forgive thee that 
blood which thou hast already shed : this insult should 
annihilate every other passion, and we would bring the 
issue to this point, — " whether or not we are cowards ! " 

Never until this moment did I wish myself an English- 
man. Pardon this seeming impropriety. At present, 
would to God I were an Englishman, and one of those 
who fought on these heights. Then might I be permitted, 
without a suspicion of partiality, to attempt a description, 
the merits of which you are ready to submit to the preju- 
dices of an enemy. Then might I be allowed a statement 
of facts which personal feeling would forbid to embellish, 
but which honor would constrain to submit to truth. Then 
might I be allowed, if my feeble hand could restrain the 
daring pencil, to sl^etch the outlines of an action which 
should be painted with the same passion with which it was 
fought. 

But tliis cannot be. Therefore let the veil of modesty be 
drawn around this scene ; let a simple recital of the deeds 
of that day be whispered in the softest strains of modera- 
tion ; let us lull all our passions to a calm ; let our wounds 
cease to rankle ; let us conceal our scars ; let all our enmi- 
ties be forgotten ; let the grass wave over this blood-stained 

1 It had been asserted in Parliament that the Americans were cowards, 
and Burgoyne demanded only ten thousand men to conquer the country. 



382 AN ORATION. 

scene, and hide its crimson soil from our eyes ; let us not 
regard the flames of our habitations, nor the impious l)urn- 
ing of our altars, — new altars shall be reared to our God, 
new hosannas be proclaimed in new tabernacles. In this 
temi)er let us tread the spot to view the heights, to con- 
template the action, to remark the circumstances, and to 
inquire the result. Let us be more than just ; let us be 
generous. It is not inglorious to praise an enemy ; it is 
not beneath the dignity of humanity to weep over his re- 
mains. Then let us modestly hold the pencil, and trust to 
his generosity to color the picture. 

On the night preceding the seventeenth of June our 
countrymen, in expectation of a new and awful scene, pos- 
sessed themselves of these heights. The appeal to the 
sword had been made in the last resort. We had purified 
ourselves from the blood of our brethren ; and conscious 
innocency disclaimed all responsibility for tlie conse- 
quences. Under the command of General Putnam, a hasty 
fort, breast high, was raised with an expedition which 
spoke a resolute and determined spirit. The dawn dis- 
covered to the enemy the busy preparation. Several Brit- 
ish men-of-war had been stationed in our harbor. These, 
in merriment and recreation, undertook to dislodge the 
Americans, and demolish their fort. In the estimation of 
the enemy, tlie appearance of the Americans on these 
heights was a bravado. When they discovered tlioir mis- 
take, they considered themselves insulted ; at length they 
condescended to resolve the insult into a challenge. Howe, 
the British general, was ordered l>y Gage, the commander- 
in-cliief, to drive the rebels from their post. There were 
at this time, not more than one thousand of our country- 
men on these heights; yet the prudence of the British 
general marshalled thrice the number to opi>ose us, the 
flower of his army. lie knew the force of first impres- 



AN ORATION. 383 

sions on soldiers. If the ground should unexpectedly be 
disputed, if possibly a battle should be fought, it was all 
important in its consequences that on this occasion the 
troops of Britain should prove invincible ; and that in every 
future contest Bunker's Hill should be to them the peean 
of victory, to us the dispiriting omen of defeat. Awful 
alternative ! The unsuspected bravery, the prescriptive 
valor of the British veteran is to be successfully disputed, 
or the name of American to be disgraced, the rights of 
humanity to be derided, and the liberties of three millions 
to be suspended in still darker uncertainty ! 

Our countrymen await the approach of the enemy, lately 
their fellow-subjects, perhaps their brethren. The regu- 
larity, the order, the silence, the discipline, the dress, the 
slow but undaunted motion, above all the reputation of 
the British, add dignity to valor, and cannot but affect the 
minds of those who, educated far from the noise of war, 
never perhaps in imagination formed a scene like the 
present. Unfortunate Americans ! you have to combat 
not only Englishmen, but what is still more arduous, your 
own prejudices, — prejudices which yourselves have cul- 
tivated and fondly cherished ; prejudices which similar- 
ity of language, laws, customs, manners, and every rela- 
tion, commercial or political, have entwined round your 
hearts, and confirmed into sacred principles. No wonder 
if the Americans, tremblingly alive to such emotions, had 
been completely vanquished, not by the enemy, but like 
that early Roman ^ who, persecuted, oppressed, and driven 
from his native Rome, waged war to avenge his wrongs ; 
but in the moment of combat, affection resigned him a 
prisoner to his country. No wonder if these vital prin- 
ciples had involuntarily moved them to avert the mur- 
dering firearm from the hearts of the enemy. No wonder 

1 Coriolanus. 



384 AN ORATION. 

if humanity had unnerved the uplifted arm, and paralyzed 
every effort. No wonder if our countrymen had forgotten 
both themselves and posterity. But the principle for 
which they contended was too sublime to descend to 
mortal feelings. 

The enemy with a firm step and collected countenance 
slowly, but resolutely, drew near the redoubt. The heights 
of Boston and of the neighboring towns were covered with 
spectators panting high for the result ; while the reflection 
that a friend, a brother, a son, or a father might fall in 
the action, solemnized the scene. The enemy are permitted 
to ai)}»roacli until the deadly, unerring weapon is certain of 
destruction. Now begins the conflict. The fire from the 
ships, batteries, and field-artillery of the enemy adds variety 
to death. At this moment, to heighten the horrors of the 
day, the whole town is seen to ascend in one vast volume 
of fire. Whom the enemy spares, the flames threaten ; 
whom the flames spare, the fire of the enemy threatens. 
Here is an aged parent like old Anchiscs escaping from 
the flames on the shoulders of his son. There is a dis- 
tracted mother inquiring after her lost child. Here is a 
wife, already widowed, seeking her dead husband. There 
is another in worse extremity, overburdened with three chil- 
dren, only two of whom she can carry, — the third is left 
behind. The battle still rages. An incessant stream of 
American fire mows down the foremost ranks of the enemy, 
while tlic rear advance to be heaped on the bodies of the 
van. Thrice they retreat, and thrice do their ofticcrs rally 
them with the point of the sword. Howe redoubles his 
exertions, and not in vain ; his flying troops are once more 
led to the attack. Warren the volunteer private, ^ though 

1 Warren had been appointe<l on the preceding thirteenth of June a 
major-j^cnoral, hut not to any particular command. On the seventeentli his 
zeal led him to the scene of action, wliero he fell a private soKlicr. This 
auecdote, so honorable to his memory, is not geuerally kuowu. 



AN ORATION. 385 

a major-general, not less resolute, to equalize the combat 
generously overleaps the redoubt and wages war on equal 
terms. The American fire begins to suffer a relaxation ; 
want of ammunition arrests the havoc of death. The 
enemy are emboldened, and again begin the attack, this 
time on three sides at once. Warren falls ; the enemy 
are already within the redoubt. A retreat is sounded; but 
the Americans either understand it not, or refuse to hear. 
They still sustain the unequal combat ; their discharged 
muskets serve them still as weapons. Emulous of Her- 
cules, they convert their fire-arms into clubs, and still 
sustain the combat; nor do they think of retiring until 
the fort is in possession of the enemy. 

The melancholy pleasure of counting the slain is reserved 
to the British. They report the number to be one thou- 
sand one hundred and ninty-three. Of these, one thousand 
and fifty-four are their brethren. They were brave men, 
and worthy of a better fate than to fall in such a cause. 

Thus ended this famous battle, alike honorable to both 
parties in point of valor, — not so in its consequences. 
Those days are past ; let us for the reputation of Britain 
deny her adoption of a new system of warfare which super- 
seded the rights of humanity. Those days are past ; let 
time mellow our resentments into civility and respect, but 
never into affection. In the agitations of life, let us give 
them our hands, but never trust them with our hearts. 
The shades of these martyrs forbid the prostitution. 

It has been hinted by some of our invidious enemies, who 
neither fought nor saw the battle, that a blind and mad valor 
possessed the Americans on this occasion. If this insult 
had proceeded from those who survived the day, it might 
merit an answer. Rather let us say that it was an intre- 
pidity of soul which caused them to see danger as though 
they were not exposed to it, and which led them to brave it 

25 



386 AN ORATION. 

as though they saw it not.^ It is the prerogative of true 
valor to discover itself full grown ; it requires no tardy 
progression. Discipline may direct it, practice may mod- 
crate its vehemence, but it disdains precept or example. 
The indefatigable Frederic could never fashion a coward 
into a brave man. True courage is equal to all occasions ; 
it is ever accompanied with a presence of mind which 
coolly appreciates every occurrence, and which no novelty 
of surprise can disconcert. Hence our undisciplined and 
unpractised countrymen who fell on this hill, became 
heroes in one day. They immortalized this scene ; they 
severely resented the ungenerous aspersions, annihilated 
the false suspicions of their enemies, and crowned their 
country with that laurel which England had asserted 
would not flourish in America. 

The contemplation of those monuments of blood which 
ambition has reared to vain glory, the celebration of those 
victories which have made a desert of the finest countries 
without benefiting the conqueror, may captivate the young 
warrior whose sanguinary ardor already promises a revelry 
on human misery. But yonder monument was not raised 
to commemorate the exploits of ambitious violence, nor of 
the adventurous warrior. It was not raised as a boasted 
trophy of valor, nor as an insult to the shades of the enemy ; 
it was not raised to flatter our own vanity. It was raised 
for a far nol)lcr ]^urpose, — to honor and, if possible, to fix 
forever that principle which actuated those who lie here 
buried. No ; on our part it is a monument of principle 
against oppression, aggravated by humiliating sarcasms 
on the courage of our fathers. On our part we did not 
shed the blood of England to serve the politics of a 

' Dufpiay Tronin avoit reou en partacje cette iiitrc'piditd d'ame qui fait 
voir lo danger, comme si on ny etoit pas expose ; et qui lo fait braver, comme 
si on no le voyoit pas. — M. Thomas. 



AN ORATION. 387 

corrupt court; it did not flow in support of a house of 
York, or of a house of Lancaster ; it did not flow to 
gratify the pride of conquest. We did not like modern 
gladiators sacrifice the blood of our brethren to amuse 
the contending factions of ministers of State. On our part 
we can lay our hands on our bosoms and call Heaven to 
witness that the blood which stained these fields was jus- 
tifiably spilt. On our part we can tread this spot with a 
virtuous emotion ; and while we contemplate the battle, 
the principle for which we contended stands ready even to 
sanctify the bloody consequences. Yes ; angels would not 
have sullied their native purity in pursuing to extremity 
the principle for which we fought. Though they had shed 
torrents of blood, and crimsoned over their spotless robes. 
Heaven had discovered no blemish. Nay, more ; had these 
heights drunk the last drop of British blood, had the 
enemy's bones whitened all the country round, we might 
have wept over them ; we might have cursed the unhappy 
cause which roused the angel of destruction ; we might 
have forbidden our own feelings to have triumphed over 
the lamented scene, — yet we would not have abjured the 
principle that should have triumphed over the ruins of 
mortality. 

Can there be one in this assembly who demands the na- 
ture of this principle? Oh, shame! If he do not feel it, 
why is he here ? If he do not feel it on this occasion para- 
mount over every other sentiment, the indignant shades of 
these heroes forbid us to describe it. In their name we 
pronounce him alien to the spirit of '75, and unworthy 
to appear among freemen. 

Let us never, my fellow-citizens, define this principle ; 
the attempt will only weaken it. Suffice it for us that we 
feel it ; suffice it for us, that it appear in action at the call 
of emergency. The nobleness of this principle has caused 



388 AN ORATION. 

false patriots in every age to disgrace it ; hence many have 
denied its existence, and have defined it away to nothing. 
This principle is indeed too noble, too superior to the accus- 
tomed feelings of nature, too sublime, to be common. Not 
infrequently, whole nations are dead to its influence ; but 
the reality of its existence is unquestionable. It has 
appeared in the world in different eras ; it appeared in 
Greece, — at Marathon, at Thcrmopyla3, and at the Straits 
of Salamis. I do not know if it appeared among the Romans ; 
for this principle is not ambitious of conquest, nor has it 
any concern with politics, nor is it allied to motives of in- 
terest ; it detests the bloody laurels of systematic war, modi- 
fied into a barbarous commerce of loss and gain. Even 
national glory is not its object, though national glory is ever 
its consequence. It is indispensably accompanied with an 
enthusiasm of valor. Yet valor is only a necessary incident ; 
neither your Alexanders, nor Cassars, nor the Swede, ever 
attained to this principle. It appeared, seventeen hundred 
years ago, in Great Britain. In more modern days it ap- 
peared in the United Provinces, and rarificd the congealed 
blood of their inhabitants. It once passed over Switzer- 
land, and in its transient passage left a lasting monument 
of its existence. In a still later period it appeared in 
all its glory, though unsuccessfully, in Poland, and glowed 
in the breast of Kosciusko. Shall we dare speak it or 
refrain ? We believe this principle appeared lately in Ire- 
land. Need we offer another instance ? We might, but it 
is unnecessary. 

my countrymen ! excuse the fervor of enthusiasm ; 
the occasion produces, and the subject warrants, the Avarm- 
est apostrophe to the noblest of principles. Then let me 
urge home this princijdo to the centre of your hearts. — the 
lioart is its native home ; tlierc it must inhabit. That laurel 
which adorns the brow of the hero, if not roote<l in his own 



AN ORATION. 389 

head, will soon wither. So this principle, to ennoble man, 
to redeem him from the dust, to fix his character, must be 
rooted in his heart ; otherwise it is but a counterfeit, a 
splendid meteor, aspiring indeed to a place among the 
stars, but its earthly grossness shows itself long before it 
reaches the pure empyrean. Without this principle you 
must be slaves ; with it, you must be freemen. This is 
really that magic wand which turns wretchedness into fe- 
licity, the deserts of America into a paradise, and man into 
a human god. Neither records nor monuments nor en- 
gravings on brass and marble can preserve it. If you do 
not keep it more sacredly, it will in time steal from your 
Constitution, and then your government is already changed, 
though your Constitution may remain, like the freedom of 
Rome, engraven on twelve tables, an honorable monument 
indeed to times past. 

ye shades of martyred heroes ! we will not profane 
this day, sacred to you, with a suspicion that you offered up 
yourselves for one, two, or three, generations. The rich in- 
heritance which you purchased, your early fates forbade to 
enjoy. This inheritance came unimpaired into our posses- 
sion ; and we trust, ever honored shades ! that the principle 
which purchased our freedom descended with it ! Before 
this principle wings its flight to more happy climes, we will 
still testify so much regard to your memories, as to destroy 
every vestige of this monument ; if we cannot remove these 
heights, we will give them a new name, and erase from our 
annals every remembrance of this spot. We will forget 
that we once were freemen ; we will deny that any battle 
was contested here ; we will deny that any such man as 
Warren, ever died for his country. Yes, injured shades ! 
oblivion of your memories, denial of your deeds, destruc- 
tion of your monument, and contempt of freedom shall be 
some little apology for us, before we deny the principle for 



390 • AN ORATION. 

which you suffered. When those times come, — mortifying 
thought ! — perhaps some one not wholly degenerate, not 
perfectly renegade to the glory of his ancestors, whose 
bosom still glows with a flame in some degree true to the 
native fire of his fathers, shall tread this scene ; and moved 
by the genius of the place, he will exclaim, " On this spot, 
though the annals of the country deny it, a famous battle 
was once fought in support of freedom. It is said the pride 
of Britain was first humbled on these heights ; and that a 
few brave men under the influence of a certain principle 
now forgotten or despised, dared thrice the numbei^of the 
enemy, and by their victorious deaths restored the falling 
fortunes of their country. Somewhere on this spot, though 
now no memorial remains, it is reported a monument was 
erected to the memory of a hero called Warren, and his 
compatriots. Such days were, though the date is now 
forgotten. Yes, the feeling which the scene inspires 
tells me such days were. Truly, our ancestors once reared 
a most stupendous pyramid of glory on this spot, and 
cemented it with their blood ; their posterity, an unworthy 
race, have made a mockery of their principles, have de- 
nied their deeds, have destroyed their monument, have 
forgotten their memories, and denied that they once were 
free." 

God! before this period arrives, grant, — it is a last 
effusion of earnest supplication, — grant that some friendly 
convulsion of Nature may rend these heights from their 
lowest foundation, and that the overflowings of the ocean 
may embowel in the darkest recess of the sea all remem- 
brance of our disgrace. 

Americans ! "this cruel jealousy of your posterity is un- 
worthy of you ; it will dishonor your own rejnitation. On 
the contrary, we are proud to believe that as you in the 
day of your emergency "rose frf)m defeat, and strengthened 



AN ORATION, • 391 

while you bled," ^ so your posterity, if occasion should de- 
mand, would on these very heights revive the days of '75, 
emulate your deeds, bleed as you bled, rear a second 
monument by the side of the present to the same prin- 
ciple, and, in one word, renovate your own selves. No, 
Americans I there is only one view in which we are willing 
to contemplate this monument as having been reared in 
vain ; in one respect it was prematurely raised, — the spirit 
which it is designed to honor is not yet fled. 

We have now secured the principle, we have seen the 
action, and honorably repelled the insults of our enemies. 
It now remains to honor the memories of those who 
fought, who bled, who died, to repel the ungenerous in- 
sults of our enemies, and whose deaths have hallowed 
the scene. 

The celebration of those who have fallen in support of 
the liberties of their country is ever esteemed among free- 
men a solemn duty, nearly allied to piety. In the rudest 
ages this custom had its origin. A simple pile of stones 
served both to memorialize their deeds, and to advertise 
the traveller not to profane the spot, for it was holy 
ground. The tribute which a nation pays to such patriots 
is generally coeval with their liberties. When they cease 
to be respected, it is already too late to inquire the cause ; 
the reign of despotism is already begun. It is dangerous 
to appeal to times past; it is the height of sedition, and 

1 This line, so appropriate to the American character of those days, is 
from Mr. Story, author of the charming poem on " Solitude," so well worthy 
of the days of Akenside and Armstrong. 

[The late Mr. Justice Story, a classmate of the author, in one of the notes 
to his poem, entitled " The Power of Solitude," published in 1804, in quoting 
from this Oration, writes : " It deserves remembrance from its impartiality, 
its spirit, and its eloquence. It would not have disgraced the reputation of 
those Grecian orators, of whom Cicero says, ' Grandes erant verbis, crebri 
sententiis, compressione rerum breves.' " — Ed.] 



392 AN ORATION. 

even worthy of death, to assert that Cassius was the last 
of the Romans.^ 

Americans, how ought you to feci ? Under your benign 
government no honors are more highly esteemed nor more 
liberally bestowed than those which are offered to the 
memory of patriots who died for their country. How ought 
you to feel when the principle for which your country- 
men suffered, and to which you owe your past and present 
greatness, allies itself to the religion of your country, and 
is asserted in the sacred temple of the Most High? How 
ought you to feel when the fall of those who dignified 
these heights is not with their sons so great a cause of 
regret as envy of their fate ? Happy shades ! you con- 
vert our envy into the noblest passion ; for those who envy 
you most do both you and themselves most honor. 

Happy shades ! on the morning of that day which this 
anniversary commemorates began your labors; before even- 
ing they were finished. One day witnessed your glory ; 
the same day it was perfected. Your laurels were green 
on your brows ; they had not time to wither, and now they 
never can. Happy shades ! you did not survive your 
glory ; your passport to fame was through the splendor of 
your renown. The moment in which you were all you 
could be, you ascended to heaven. Happy shades ! your 
monument is more durable than marble, more honorable 
than any trophy which human art has yet raised ; yours is 
erected in the hearts of your countrymen. Happy sliadcs ! 
though you fell in the morning of the Revolution ; though 
you were forbidden to swell the triumphs of your fellow- 
citizens ; though no heavenly vision of your country's 
approachiiitr liberty softened the agonies of death and en- 

1 Creniutins rordus, an impartial historian, had hestowed euoomiuins on 
Brntns, and callfd Cassius the last of the Romans. This was the height of 
sedition, and tlie t'ause of liis death. 



AN ORATION. 393 

raptured your departing spirits, yet you did not depart 
without your glory ; you did not depart without your 
triumph. The indignant genius of your country had de- 
clared that her sons had lived as long as life was honor- 
able ; you were demanded a sacrifice ; your obedience 
consummated your glory ; your fall triumphed over death. 
Happy shades ! though you fell among the first, you shall 
be honored among the greatest of our worthies. All that 
the living can bestow on the dead shall be offered to your 
remains. Virgines, puerique, manibus date lilia plenis, 
purpureos spargite flores, animasque his saltern accumulate 
donis. The Muses too shall bring you their richest offer- 
ings. The majesty of History shall dignify you ; Poetry 
in your praises shall lay claim to new graces ; and Elo- 
quence shall aspire to new pathos in painting to your sons 
what their fathers were. Happy shades ! some bard shall 
yet arise to do you justice ; some orator shall yet appear 
worthy the subject, capable of feeling, capable of asserting, 
and capable of infusing into every breast that principle 
which you died to support. Happy shades 1 what more 
can we say in your praise? All your own sufferings and 
all the succeeding complicated miseries of your brethren 
did not half satisfy the purchase which we enjoy.^ What 
more can we say in your praise ? Should Heaven in wrath 
sink us this day into slaves, we have already been free, 
and you stand acquitted. 

Citizen soldiers! before we leave these heights, permit 
me to address one word to yourselves. While you testify 
your own principles in commemorating the days of Amer- 

^ " A day, an hour, of virtuous freedom 
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage." 
Thus Roman Cato thouglit, and thus Addison spoke. If the sentiment be 
just, our liberties were cheaply purchased with a seven-year war. 



394 AN ORATION. 

icaii glory, your fellow-citizens arc not regardless of an- 
other circumstance, equally interesting to their feelings. 
How much is the pleasure of this day enhanced in con- 
templating the most dignified ol^ject wliich a free jicople 
can witness, — the patriot soldier, equally ready to take up 
or lay down his arms in obedience to the laws ! Behold, 
soldiers, what confidence your fellow-citizens repose in 
you ! May you never — you never will — betray that con- 
fidence. But if these States ever do lose their liberties, it 
■yvill be when the soldier ceases to be the citizen. Cherish, 
then, the principles of your fathers, and in peace you shall 
be regarded not as soldiers, but citizens ; in war you 
shall be respected as the safeguard of the Republic. In 
peace you shall repose under the wing of our Constitution ; 
in war our Constitution shall repose under your protection. 
May you ever be prepared to assume the soldier ; but 
never, oh, never may you cease to be the citizen. 



THE END. 



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